I spent my days working in the store, my evenings in group meetings, and my nights making phone calls trying to find work. I needed to make money and get the hell out of this place. Once I got my shit together after my trial, I was issued a new ID card and went immediately to the bank. I had some money saved and could at least get out of the shelter for a night and go somewhere else to make a home, but there was a problem.

Lisa used the time I stayed in the shelter, without any way to get my money, to drain my account. She left about fifty dollars out of the kindness of her heart. She had all my passwords, and I should’ve known better than to think she wouldn’t rip me off. I had no way to prove it was her because my account was used to pay bills, but it was her. I had enough money for a single bus ticket. I needed to make the right choice, one that would take my life on a different path.

Derek, the guy who brought me home after my release from jail in St. Louis, called me after weeks of waiting to hear back about possible work. I saw his name flash on my phone, and I hit the talk button as quickly as I could. “Hello.”

“Hey, bud, how you been?”

“I’ve been better. Still haven’t heard anything back on work. I’m starting to go out of my fucking mind.”

“Well, I have some good news for you.”

“What?”

“A company is hiring in New Orleans. They need workers ASAP, if you’re looking to work. I hear they’re even offering a signing bonus.”

“Do they have company housing? I don’t have a fucking thing to my name, Derek. The bitch stripped my bank account. I have just enough for a bus ticket.”

“They do, and they’ll supply the tools and the truck. Worth a shot. Better than sitting in that hellhole. Are you still there?”

“Where else would I be? Text me the info, so I can jump on that shit and get things rolling.”

“Will do. You okay?”

“I’ll be better as soon as I get out of here. I need my life back.”

“And Kayden?”

“What?”

“Stay away from women. You don’t seem to have the best pussy picker.”

“No fucking shit. I’m done, out, finished. Relationships aren’t for me.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. Some of the guys from St. Louis went down to NOLA, so you’ll be in good company.” The thought of staying in the South for the winter gave me a sense of relief. I couldn’t deal with another winter in the cold and snow.

Derek and I talked a few more minutes, and then I waited for his text. I felt hopeful for the first time in weeks and slept through the night without the help of a beer. I called Human Resources the next morning and started the application process. It would take about two days for everything to process, and I could start immediately. I decided to get the fuck out of Dodge as quickly as possible and bought my ticket that evening. I’d catch the nine p.m. bus to New Orleans and start over…again.

I wanted a fresh start away from the bullshit and chaos I always seemed to create and the waves of misfortune that pulled me in like an unending tide.

New Orleans is a place for new beginnings, a place one could go and get lost and leave old baggage behind, but it’s not the right city for someone who craves alcohol. The party atmosphere’s infectious and all-consuming. It pulled me in and wrapped me in its Southern Créole charm, making it feel like home to me more than anywhere else in the world. I could be anything I wanted here. I could live life on my own terms.

Déjà vu hit me as I walked through the door of the apartment. It wasn’t the large home that eight of us shared in St. Louis but a small space with three bedrooms. It was common in the cable and satellite industry for the employees to live in company housing. The workers were transient and moved with the work and money.

It was evening, and the apartment was buzzing with activity. I’d already stopped by HR and had all my paperwork cleared earlier than expected and got my housing key. I had to sign a million forms, signing away my life and most of my money for a while—I had to pay for the truck, tools, and rent out of each check.

“Kayden,” a voice yelled. Tom sat at the table in his work clothes, eating a sandwich with pieces falling on his plate. Tom and I worked together in St. Louis, and we’d kept in contact after I left. At least I knew one person walking through the door.

“Hey, man, I didn’t know you’d be here.” I walked toward him and set my bags down on the floor. I held out my hand to him.

“I just got here a couple of weeks ago.” He wiped his hands on his T-shirt. Tom wasn’t always known for his class, but I still liked him.

“Where’s my room?”

“Right there,” he said, pointing to the first room in the hallway. “When ya start?” He turned his attention back to the sandwich.

“Tomorrow. I have to go stock my truck and pick up the keys. Maybe they’ll have me on the road in the afternoon.”

“Go put your shit away and come have a drink. A few guys from work are stopping over to meet you.”

It was inevitable. Liquor was part of the diet in that life. Just like water when it was hot, alcohol filled the evenings for everyone. The bottles were already lined up on the counter, waiting to be consumed. I’d have to learn how to control myself. The women in my life were what led me to overindulge, and without them, would I be able to keep shit in check?

The bedroom had very little furniture, but that didn’t matter. I’d be able to fill it up soon enough after I started working. We’d be paid weekly, and I didn’t have any other bills or obligations—well, besides the restitution payments to Lisa, but I wasn’t in a hurry to pay that off before I was required. I hung up my few pieces of clothing and sat on the bed, taking stock of what I had and what I’d lost.

I never had the chance to go back to get my things at Lisa’s. The no-contact order meant I couldn’t enter the property even with permission from her to get anything. I only had the clothes given to me at the shelter and a few small items. I had nothing for the first time in my life. Everything I owned fit into a duffel bag. I felt a happiness and inner peace that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I felt like I had a home again.

Did I get drunk that night? No, I didn’t. Did I drink? Yes. I didn’t need to get drunk. I didn’t need to show up for my first day of work with a hangover. I wanted to sit with the guys, find out about New Orleans and work, the hot topic of conversation. I listened to all their complaints and issues, but I knew I could work through anything. One thing I did well was work my ass off. I also fucked like a champ and could party like a rock star in my youth, but now was the time to put my head down and make cash.

I signed up for every type of online “dating” website I could find during my first week in New Orleans. Facebook wasn’t the only game in town. I made profiles on Match, Plenty of Fish, and even a site called Fuckbook. I didn’t want a date. I was told those sites were strictly to hook up with chicks and get laid. I wanted to find someone looking for a little fun and a lot of cock. Each inbox filled up within days, and it was like a buffet of pussy sitting there waiting to be eaten.

I wrote and chatted with a few women, but they wanted relationships. My line to them always: I’m not looking for a relationship. I just want to fuck. Crude, I know, but I laid it out for them. I only wanted one thing from a woman at this point. I didn’t want the problems and complications that seemed to follow me around like a black rain cloud over my head. I found the promised land on Fuckbook and Facebook. Friends of friends on Facebook heard about me and wanted to chat, and Fuckbook, I don’t really need to explain.

I opened my Fuckbook messages, and Carrie had sent me a hello. She looked beautiful, but I knew pictures were usually bullshit. I used my picture, but most people tried to scam with some random photo they found online. How did I know this? Because I kept seeing the same girl’s photo popping up with different names all over the country. Carrie’s photo didn’t send up any red flags, and her message was short and to the point: Hiya, you’re hot as fuck.

I loved a girl with a dirty mouth. I hit the chat button next to her name and took a shot.

Me: Hey. Like what you see? I know I do.

God, what do you say to someone you just want to bang and don’t really give a fuck who they are or what they’re doing. I wasn’t going to be a dick about it. I wasn’t entirely coldhearted at this point in my life, but I just didn’t want to waste time or make false promises of a happily ever after.

Carrie: I’d rather see you without a shirt. Got something you can send me?

Her message gave me pause. Was I being played? I always thought I was the player, but I wasn’t sure about Carrie. Too quick on wanting the skin photos, maybe.

Me: What are you going to show me?

Carrie: I have plenty to show. You live in New Orleans?

A photo filled the chat window. She wore a very low-cut shirt and showed lots of cleavage. Her face was visible in the picture, and it matched her profile. All the little things you had to watch for when trolling online. So many ways to get duped.

Me: Yes, and you?

Carrie: Just outside of NOLA but close enough to meet up.

Me: Nice rack. You looking for a relationship?

Carrie: LMFAO. Fuck no, why the hell do you think I’m on this site.

So far, she passed my test with flying colors. No relationship, check. Hot as hell, check. Dirty mouth, check. Doesn’t live too close so clinginess wouldn’t be a factor, check.

Me: I just want to be clear about it. I don’t want a relationship. I’m done with the bullshit.

Carrie: Good. Listen, I want someone to scratch my itch, but I’d like to meet for a drink first—in public. I want to know you aren’t some kind of weirdo or pervert…well, at least, not the bad kind.

So she wasn’t a dummy. Things were looking up.

Me: Let’s meet for a drink down in the Quarter. I’m new to the area and would like to enjoy some of the city. You game?

Carrie: Yes, can I bring some friends?

All the guys here were single except one, and it sounded like a perfect idea.

Me: Sure, and I’ll bring some of the guys. We’ll make it a group thing.

Carrie: Great! Saturday night good? Let’s say around nine at the Hustler Club.

The girl liked strip clubs. Couldn’t go wrong.

Me: We’ll be there. I’ll let you know if something changes.

It was Thursday, but I knew the guys would be game for a night out. We sat here every night and had drinks, but I knew they’d like to get out and be surrounded by ladies and naked strippers. I carried my tablet out into the living room and sat down on the couch. The guys were all watching television, busy with their own online entertainment. I looked around the room and felt sorry for the ladies we were about to meet. They weren’t the best-looking group of guys and gross in so many ways. They lay around the living room in their underwear with their bellies hanging out and their hand down their pants. It was more than a little disturbing. I needed to see a naked woman in person instead of these burping, snoring, belly-scratching things I’ve become surrounded by.

“Guys, who’s up for Hustler Club on Saturday night? Have a group of ladies we’re meeting.” They all looked at me, and I had their full and undivided attention. Pussy always made everything else cease to exist. “You guys in?”

“What ladies?” Tom asked.

“I met a girl online, but she wants to meet in public first. She picked Hustler, and she’s going to bring some friends.”

“Really?” Tom seemed to be thinking about it, but I knew he hadn’t been laid in ages just by looking at him.

“Yes, I told her I’d bring friends. Listen, even if her friends aren’t your type, we’ll be in a titty bar having drinks. How bad could it be?”

“I’m in,” Tom said, and all the guys answered the same.

“Nine, Saturday night,” I said as I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer.

“Finally, something interesting going on in this damn place,” Mark said. “I don’t want to spend another Saturday night looking at your ugly mugs. T & A it is.”

Tomorrow was Friday, and thankfully, my first pay day. I needed the money to buy some fucking clothes and pay for a night out in New Orleans. The guys had been nice enough to share their food with me all week. I cooked as much as possible since they went to the trouble of buying the food. Most guys can’t cook worth shit, but my mom taught me how to fend for myself and cook a decent meal. Food and drinks were plentiful in this place but not always the best quality, at least when it came to food. The liquor was always top-shelf—Patrón, Myers’s, and Grey Goose.

I had something to look forward to this weekend, something other than work. I’d hopefully meet someone looking for the same—a night of passion.

I bought a new pair of jeans, shoes, and a skintight black t-shirt to wear to Hustler. I wanted to show off my body and all I had to offer. I didn’t want to leave anything to the imagination. I shaved my head smooth as a baby’s ass and trimmed my facial hair to perfection. I looked at myself in the mirror, and fuck it, I knew I looked good. If Carrie wasn’t game, or had advertised herself incorrectly, I’d find some hot piece of ass in New Orleans tonight.

I walked into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks. “What the fuck are you wearing, dude?”

Tom looked down at his shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Where the fuck do I begin?” I laughed while shaking my head. He looked like a scene out of some cheesy porn. He had on baggy pants and an oversized T-shirt that had a print of the beach and palm trees. Not just a print, but the entire thing was a scene, a photo of the beach. He looked like a walking disaster, and he definitely wouldn’t be getting any pussy in that outfit.

“Fucker, I just bought this shirt. I think I look damn good.”

“First problem is you thought. Where the fuck did you buy it? Walmart?” I started to laugh so hard tears were forming in my eyes. The poor guy was dead serious. He honestly thought he looked good, and it made me laugh even harder.

“Fuck you, Kayden. I’m wearing it. You’ll see. I’m going to be a pussy magnet tonight.” The other guys in the room were all laughing and shaking their heads. No one else had the heart to tell Tom he looked ridiculous. His outfit just made them look better. “And what the fuck is wrong with Walmart’s clothes anyway, dick?” I had no words, just grabbed my keys and headed out the door with the guys in tow, Tom pulling up the rear.

We rolled out of the apartment parking lot just after eight to catch the streetcar down to Bourbon. I’d already been through the city during my workdays, but I hadn’t experienced it at night. The streetcar stop buzzed with excitement. People were dressed in all types of outfits, corsets and miniskirts to casual shorts and tank tops. I heard anything goes down in the Quarter, but I hadn’t believed it until I saw it with my own eyes.

The streetcar was packed with people, standing room only, as we made our way down Canal Street. The streets were filled with people and cars, all looking to make their way to the action, the place to be seen and party until you could hardly stand without help from another. Drinks weren’t my goal tonight, finding Carrie and taking in the sights of New Orleans were on the menu.

The streetcar stopped, and Mark nudged me, “This is our stop. Bourbon is right there.” He pointed to the left, and I could see a street filled with lights and what looked like an endless sea of people. I’d never lived in a city that had been known for its nightlife and party atmosphere. Cleveland had a so-so night scene back in the nineties but had deteriorated over time, and Florida didn’t have shit to offer but snow birds and Grand Marquis.

I followed the stream of people across the street and soaked in New Orleans. The smell of the city was unlike any other place I’d ever known. There was a spiciness to it, an aroma of alcohol, sex, and Cajun flair. Men lined the streets with signs offering oversized beers and the most beautiful girls through the door behind them. Everyone fought for business and attention. Girls lined the doorways in just a few strips of clothing, grinding on the frame and trying to tempt the passersby.

I knew in that moment I would be fucking dead if I’d grown up in this city or moved here in a different time in my life. There was too much sin available on every corner. I would’ve overdosed or had “Gluttony” tattooed on my ass. The lights from each bar, restaurant, and strip club caused a colorful haze to dance off the faces of the people and illuminate the entire street. There was an energy to the street that I couldn’t describe in words because it had to be experienced to be believed.

“This place is fucking amazing,” I said to Mark as he walked next to me, and the guys strolled farther ahead.

“Yeah, it’s NOLA. They may call Vegas Sin City, but it doesn’t have nothing on NOLA.” He pointed to a group of girls on the sidewalk. Their upper bodies were covered in paint, and they didn’t have on any clothing except for shorts. “See those girls? They come here all the time, and guys pay to take pictures with them.”

I couldn’t believe people were so shocked by tits that it required a photo as proof of their wild time. They were here on vacation, but this was my new home. The possibilities were endless in a city like New Orleans. I checked my watch. “Hey, we should find the club and head in. It’s close to nine.”

“Yo,” Mark yelled to the others as he pointed to the Hustler Club.

We walked through the crowd, our bodies touching as we bumped into other people trying while to make our way to the other side of the street. The Hustler Club had a purple and red neon sign with the tagline “Relax… It’s Just Sex!” I couldn’t have said it better myself. Pictures of women framed the doorway, showcasing them in various positions and levels of nudity. We each handed the barely dressed woman our money and were shown our way through a velvet drape and into the entrance. On the other side of the drape was a red room with tall-backed couches made of red velvet that led the way to the main club area. Hustler was a multilevel club with various dance floors and seating areas. I had messaged Carrie earlier in the day, and she told me where they’d be. “They’re gonna be at the bar. Let’s go find them first.”

The guys looked like kids in a candy store. There was so much going on around us, and these guys didn’t look like the type who actually had the chance to bang a stripper. They could only stare at them and stuff dollar bills into their panties. I’d had my share of strippers and knew they weren’t as glamorous as they looked on the stage. They were a fucking train wreck wrapped in a pretty package. Tom, John, and Mark could never land a stripper. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the looks, but they just didn’t have the “it” factor. They were frumpy, lacked any kind of skills when it came to women, and they lacked confidence. Fuck, they lacked everything that could draw a woman in besides a wallet full of money.

The bar was on the other side of the room, but I could see Carrie perfectly through the haze of pink lights and people. She sat on a barstool wearing a short skirt and open-back top. She sat sideways on the chair with her back clearly visible, along with the side of her face. She had long curly brown hair and a bunch of it. I thought about putting my fingers in her hair and grabbing hold of her while I fucked her, bumping her ass and causing her body to move from the impact. Her top was white and almost sheer. Her legs were killer with black dagger heels that screamed to be held. I didn’t know where I wanted to put my hands on this girl first. She laughed and tossed her head back, and my cock grew hard wanting to see her on top of me in the same position, her head tipped back, naked, and happy.

I shifted my shoulders and stood up straight—I wanted maximum impact when she laid eyes on me. I couldn’t understand what a girl as hot as her would be doing on a site like Fuckbook, but then again, what the fuck was I doing on Fuckbook? We all had our reasons for the choices we made or the types of relationships we sought. I couldn’t judge her on her choices or her actions. I walked toward her slowly, trying to seem casual. I looked around the room like I hadn’t spotted her yet until I was practically right in front of her.

“Kayden?” she said as she looked me up and down.

I smiled and gave her the same once-over, although I had already done that from across the room. “Yes. Carrie, I presume,” I said as I held out my hand, looking for hers in return. She slid her fingers into my palm, and I closed my fingers around them. Her fingernails were long and red and neatly manicured. I lifted her hand to my mouth and turned it at the last moment to kiss her wrist. It was such a sensual spot. I looked up at her, and she had a glimmer in her eye. I knew instantly she’d be perfect for the type of arrangement I wanted.

“These are my friends, Samantha and Kelly.” Samantha was a brunette with thin, straight hair, a plain face, and simple clothes. Kelly had a little more going on with blond hair, huge tits, big green eyes, and clothes that looked like they were painted on. Samantha was more the type that would go for one of my friends, but I think she had more class than the guys had in their pinky fingers.

“This is Tom, Mark, and John.” I pointed to them lined up at the bar all ordering drinks. “Want to get a table?” I asked.

“We’d love to.” They grabbed their drinks and moved off their barstools. I never could understand how women walked in those fucking shoes, but they did crazy things to my cock. “Just so you know, Samantha doesn’t like guys. She didn’t want to give the wrong impression to your friends.” Kind of made sense to me, but I would have thought she would have gone the extra mile when getting ready in a room filled with opportunity for her.

“No problem. I’ll pass on the word to the guys that she’s not interested.” I gestured with my hand for Carrie to walk ahead. I wanted her to pick the location, and I wanted to watch her ass jiggle as she walked. It had a bounce, and I fucking loved it. Not the bounce of extra pounds, but the idea of some junk in the trunk, something to hold on to while my cock was buried inside her. “Do you and she…?” I whispered in her ear.

“Fuck no, I’m all about the cock, baby. Now Sam and Kelly…they’re another story.” She laughed. I wouldn’t mind a front row seat at that show while Kelly sucked my cock, but I didn’t feel like a group party, at least not tonight.

Carrie sat down, and I took the seat next to her while everyone else sat guys vs. girls at the table. I could see it wasn’t a night for the group to commingle, but for everyone else to watch the ladies shake their shit on stage.

“Drink?” a waitress asked. They didn’t waste any time, and the more liquor in the system, the quicker the money flowed out of your pocket and into the hands of the girls at the club. I knew the game, having been immersed in the scene back in the day.

“First round’s on me. I’ll take a beer, please. Ladies?” I asked Sam and Kelly across the table. They both smiled and placed their drink orders.

“Fuck, we already bought ours,” Tom complained.

“Just order a damn drink. You’ll finish those before she makes it back.” I swear, sometimes their brains didn’t function. A room full of pussy and it all turned to mush.

I turned my attention back to Carrie. Her legs were crossed, and her body faced me, leaning forward slightly. Her body language had a whole lot to say even though her mouth said nothing. She rubbed her legs together and nudged my knee a couple times, trying to find any reason to touch me.

“What’s your story, Carrie?” My curiosity was piqued. What the fuck was her deal? Why was she here and not home with a boyfriend at her side?

“I’m in school and don’t have the time or want the hassle of a boyfriend.” She ran her fingers down the valley of her breasts, and my eyes watched her nails leave goose bumps across her skin.

“So, just no time? You want the pleasure without the bullshit?”

“Yes, I need time to study. I’m on a scholarship and can’t fuck it up. I had a boyfriend freshman year and almost flunked out. No cock is going to ruin my future.”

“Do you do this a lot? Troll Fuckbook looking for cock?” I rubbed my goatee and watched her face carefully. I looked for any telltale signs of lying.

“No, I hooked up with someone a year ago on that site. We met up a couple of times a month. Neither of us wanted a relationship, just sex. He moved away after he was done with school. I’m on the prowl for fresh meat, and you just happened to show up on my recommendations.” Not a blink or fidget as she spoke. “Is it something you do often?”

“Fuckbook? Nope, you’re the first person I’ve met off there. Have I met someone off the internet? Yes. I dated someone I found from high school on there. Total fucking disaster. I just need someone to blow off some steam with. I want to have fun without the heart and bullshit.”

“Dance?” A girl tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned. Her tits were right in my face.

“That’s up to the lady,” I said, looking toward Carrie.

“Sure, I’d like to watch.” She leaned back in her seat and smiled.

I grabbed a fifty out of my wallet and handed it to the buxom blonde. “You dance for her. I’ll be the one watching.”

Carrie didn’t miss a beat or look shocked. “Gotcha, buddy. Whatever you want. I’m Angel, by the way.”

“Just grind on her, honey, make her wet,” I said. Angel moved Carrie’s knees apart, putting her feet flat on the floor. Angel placed her knee between Carrie’s legs, prying them apart just enough to fit her leg in between. She placed her knee in Carrie’s crotch, making contact. She rubbed her tits in her face and against Carrie’s chest. She grinded and rubbed everything against her.

When a guy got a lap dance, the contact was minimal and more about a good show. If they were naked right now, I’d swear to fucking God they were fucking. It was erotic, and Carrie, for all her cock talk, seemed to be interested and turned on. Angel turned around and bent over with her pussy practically in Carrie’s face. She grabbed Angel’s ass and smacked it. It was the best fully clothed porn I’d seen in ages. My cock grew hard and ached to be inside Carrie or any hot piece of ass at the moment. I’d fuck Angel in the bathroom right now if Carrie wasn’t game. The lap dance was slow and sensual, not filled with fervor but a slow, lust-filled assault on the senses. Before Angel walked away, she leaned down and placed a very passionate kiss on Carrie’s lips. I watched as Carrie leaned into her, almost craving the touch and passion. I had her right where I wanted her.

I didn’t want to wait a week to fuck her. Strip clubs were filled with nooks and crannies, all types of places for naughty things to happen. I was sure Angel would help me. I watched as Angel touched Carrie’s chin and winked at me before walking away. Carrie sat there, still in a fog of lust. “Been a while?” I asked as I ran my hand up her leg to her inner thigh.

She nodded her head yes. “Too fucking long. Damn, that shit was hot.”

I laughed. Some women would have been pissed off or embarrassed, but Carrie was a champ, maybe a pro, even. “Not pissed?”

“Fuck no, my panties are soaked. Wanna feel?” She grinned, parting her legs a bit farther, and my cock pulsed in my jeans wanting to break free from its confinement.

I didn’t answer but moved my hand into her skirt, and she didn’t have on any panties. I should have known. She didn’t look like the type of girl who wore panties—too sexual to want the barrier. I ran my finger through her wetness, feeling the smoothness of her skin against mine. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the contact. Her legs spread a little wider, and her body leaned back in the chair, her hips tilting upward in invitation. I placed two fingers against her skin and raked through the moisture pooling on my fingers. I didn’t look around. I didn’t give a fuck who watched. We were in a strip club, not a fancy restaurant.

I pushed two fingers inside of her, her body already slick, and her head fell back at the sensation. I curved my fingers upward, searching for her G-spot. I found it easily and rubbed it, moving my fingers in and out and curling them against her insides. Her legs closed, trapping my fingers in place. I leaned forward for more leverage to move inside of her. Her hands gripped the chair, and I started to rub my thumb against her clit. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers, sucking them in, holding them prisoner. I increased the pressure but kept my movements steady and unwavering. She raised her head and stared straight into my eyes as her pussy milked my finger, and she came apart with a silent “oh” on her lips. Her eyes bored into me with a look of wonderment as her chest heaved, and her breath was ragged.

“Better?” I asked with a grin as I removed my fingers from her body and slid them down her legs, leaving a trail of wetness in their wake.

“Fuck, your fingers are amazing.” She licked her lips and couldn’t take her eyes off me.

“Imagine what my cock could do.” I picked up my drink and took a sip. No one seemed to notice what had happened. If they did, they didn’t let on. They were busy watching the girls dance on the stage and the action taking place in the room.

She raised her glass to her mouth with shaky hands before taking a couple gulps of the cold liquid. “Jesus, I don’t know if I can handle you.”

“You will. Just don’t fall in love with me.”

“Love won’t be a problem,” she said quickly.

“So sure, are you?” I asked with a cocky smirk on my face. “My cock might jumble your brain, cross a few wires, and bam, you’ll love me hard.”

She almost choked on her drink with the last words out of my mouth. I knew the double meaning of the words. “Why in the hell are you single? I know I don’t want the complication. School is too important to me. But you, I just don’t get.”

I didn’t feel like vomiting my whole fucked-up life history to this girl I barely knew. “I’ve been unlucky with women. I always seem to pick the wrong ones to commit myself to. So now, I want the physical without the hassle.”

“Eh, we’ve all been unlucky. No one has the fairy tale we read about as children, at least not easily. Have to walk through the shit to appreciate the good. At least, that’s what my mom used to tell me.” She shrugged her shoulders and twirled the straw in her mouth. “Wanna get out of here and go somewhere else?”

“Someplace more private? I thought this was supposed to be just a meeting and getting to know each other thing.”

“No, big guy, you kind of ruined that when you stuck your fingers in me. I want to walk around and get a drink. I never like to stay in one place too long. Game? See where the night takes us.”

Her plan sounded promising, and strip clubs weren’t my scene anymore. They left a bad taste in my mouth. New Orleans had too much to see and experience to sit in a titty bar. “I’m game for anything, always have been. I’m kind of like Nike—just do it.”

“I’m hoping your motto is closer to Energizer—it keeps going. And going. And going.” She winked at me.

“Just remember Timex took my phrase—takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’,” I laughed. She was a smart girl; at least she had her head in the right spot, college before a relationship. A degree was something you could always depend on, unlike a partner.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s jet.” She stood up and placed her drink on the table and ran her fingertips around the rim before sticking her fingers in her mouth and sucking on them. My cock twitched, watching her suck on her fingers with her eyes closed. “Kayden and I are heading outside. You all wanna come, or you stayin’ here?” she asked her friends.

The girls looked at each other and made a couple facial expressions I didn’t fucking understand. Women had more silent signals than a man could learn in a lifetime. “My feet are killing me. We’ll stay here and enjoy the ladies and the guys if they want to stay, too.” The guys heard those words, and their faces were all smiles. They’d acted like they weren’t interested in the girls the entire night and played it cool, but it was all a bullshit game. The guys didn’t match the girls. They didn’t hang on the same ladder rung of beauty, but I knew the guys would buy drinks, and possibly after enough, they would start to look better. But even then, it was a stretch.

“You guys staying here, too?” I asked, looking at them and not really needing their answer. They were as transparent as the condom in my pocket.

“Yeah, we’ll meet up with you later,” Mark said as he tipped his chin to me as if saying they had this shit. Hardly, but I guess a guy could dream.

“Come on, doll. Let’s hit the town. Where’s the first stop?” I stood up and threw a fifty on the table. I knew it was way too much, but what the fuck, why not. Women didn’t like cheap bastards.

“. I want a Hurricane, and they have the most amazing courtyard.” She grabbed her purse off the back of the chair, and I followed her toward the door.

“How old are you, Carrie, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I don’t mind. I’m twenty-two, and you?” she asked as we finally found our way through the club exit.

“I’m in my early thirties. Can we leave it at that? I feel kind of dirty now that I know you’re so young.”

“Oh, fuck age. I’m legal.” She had a point. I didn’t want a relationship with her. I just wanted to bend her over a table and fuck her.

It became hard to talk with the music from the bars filling the streets and the masses of people chattering as we walked. I stayed by her side, and she grabbed my hand and led me toward Pat O’Brien’s. The white and green sign hung above the door, and the exterior walls were decorated in a rusty red with green shutters. We walked through the space, and I let go of her hand. Holding hands was just a little too much like being in a relationship for me to stomach.

The courtyard was a beauty with glowing fountains, twinkling lights, and softness. We found a spot at the bar and ordered Hurricanes. Funny that a city that was desecrated by a hurricane only a couple years earlier was known for such a drink.

We talked mostly about New Orleans, a very neutral topic. I didn’t want to know too much about her, and from what I could tell, she didn’t want to know much about me. I needed to know that she wasn’t a crazy whore whom I’d have to deal with in the future. I wanted simple—I needed simple. I didn’t give a fuck about what she was studying, where she came from, or who broke her heart. I didn’t want to share my life with her. I wasn’t looking to build a future. We listened to the music, and she told me about all the fun New Orleans had to offer. She’d never leave New Orleans. “It becomes part of you. You’ll see. It’s a romance that never leaves your heart.”

I’d never felt that way about any place I’d lived. It had always been just a place to plant my feet until the next great opportunity came, or my reckless choices caused me to leave.

Carrie touched me as she talked—small touches at first, my forearms with her fingertips to start and eventually clasping her hand around my arm and squeezing tightly. There was a chemistry between us, and nothing said “run the fuck away now.” All lights were green—we were a go for lift-off.

We finished our drinks and walked around the streets, taking in the sights of the city known for Mardi Gras. I felt almost overwhelmed by the energy in New Orleans, but maybe the drinks in my system had a little something to do with the overstimulation.

Carrie and I ended up having sex in the bathroom of some club I can’t even remember. They had a family bathroom, and families weren’t on the street this late at night. It was a small single room with a lock on the door. We could be loud, and no one would hear us over the music. Carrie wasn’t the type of girl you needed to take home and wine and dine. I fucked her long and hard and lived up to every motto I’d laid out while we were in Hustler.

I watched her as she rearranged her skirt and top. She looked like she’d just been through a war. I learned from Candy not to put a girl on the sink. As soon as Carrie had locked the door behind us, I grabbed her and smashed her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around me, and I undid my pants and used my hands to hold her by the ass. Her back looked a bit raw from hitting the tile over and over again, but I wasn’t sorry for any of it. I tied off the condom and threw it away.

“My back is going to be fucking killing me tomorrow.” She looked in the mirror, studying the damage. “Worth every second of misery I’ll feel tomorrow, though.” She smiled at me with a devilish grin.

“I want to take it a bit slower next time… I want to make other things ache for days.”

She laughed nervously, “I have no doubt you could, too.”

“Shall we?” I asked as I unlocked the door. “I’ll text the guys and see where they are and walk you to your friends.”

“Such a gentleman.” I opened the door and followed her out.

The group had never left Hustler, and we met them there before parting ways. I knew Carrie would be back for more. I had no doubt. I could see the guys standing outside waiting for us as we approached, and the ladies came laughing out the doorway behind them. I didn’t want to know what had happened while we were gone. Our two groups parted ways at Hustler. It was late, and we had to work the next day. We said our good-byes and left the ladies on Bourbon to head home to our empty beds and uncomplicated lives. New Orleans could work out perfectly. It was just what the doctor ordered.

Carrie and I had a standing appointment. It sounded boring and unromantic, but romance wasn’t the name of the game—lust, passion, and sex were. We met about every two weeks, sometimes sooner if we felt the need. We never shared too much or held deep conversations.

After some time away from the situation, I missed Lisa. Maybe I was a glutton for punishment, and my curse was crazy-ass bitches. Could I like a normal girl who didn’t turn my world upside down? Did I crave the unknown and want to live on the edge of uncertainty? I sent my monthly payment to the probation officer, waiting until the last minute possible. I hated parting with my cash and sending it away to someone who had everything I owned while I slept in a used bed.

I had been lying in bed trying to fall asleep for what felt like hours, but it didn’t come. I turned on the television and started watching ESPN, hoping that it would help drown out the thoughts of my failures in love and especially Lisa. I stared at my finger that held her name. My ring finger. She’d promised herself to me always and wanted me to put her name on my body to prove my devotion to her. I jumped as my phone started to ring and jump from the vibrations, dancing on my nightstand. I answered it without looking at the caller ID. I figured it was Carrie, wanting to plan our next night.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” said a small voice. My heart stopped at the sound of her voice. I didn’t know what to say to her. What was there to say? “Kayden?” she asked in an unsure tone.

“Yeah, what do you want?” I asked, not moving from my bed; although, I felt the need to pace around my room.

“I miss you,” she said in a soft tone that I hadn’t heard in a long time.

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Kayden, I do miss you. God, I’ve fucked everything up.” Her voice cracked, and the sound became muffled.

“The only person who got fucked in this is me, Lisa.”

“I know. God, I was just so pissed at you. It just got all out of hand.”

I know I got out of hand. If I hadn’t destroyed our things, I wouldn’t have been arrested and be on probation. “I’m sorry I broke in and fucked things up. I just couldn’t believe you locked me out, and it didn’t help that I’d been drinking either.”

“I just wanted to piss you off. I was so fucking mad at you. I wanted you to feel a little of what I felt. I would’ve cooled off after a night without you, and it would’ve ended there.” She sighed. “But you had to come in and destroy shit. You crossed the line, Kayden. I had to call the cops. I fucking saw red when I walked in the door.”

“I know. Everything got out of hand between us, Lisa. Where did it all go wrong?” I asked, putting my arms over my head, getting more comfortable. This Lisa was the one I thought I’d fallen in love with, the calm and remorseful woman whom I had known before she became possessed.

“Do you think we can start over? Can I come visit you, Kayden?” I didn’t answer right away. So many thoughts went through my mind at the thought of seeing her again. “Please.” She started to sob.

Fuck. I was a sucker for tears. “Yes, you can come for a weekend if you want.”

“The house has been so empty without you. I’m lost without you.”

“We’re not getting back together, Lisa, but you can come spend some time with me.” I couldn’t commit to her. I couldn’t give my heart to her. It was already a raw and open wound.

“I just need to sleep in your arms. Maybe someday we can be a couple again.”

“I don’t think so, Lisa. We’re like oil and water. We just don’t mix well together. I don’t know if I can ever trust you again. What’s to stop you from doing it again?”

“Let’s handle it one trip at a time. I’ll let you know when I book a ticket. Thank you, Kayden.”

I must clearly be a fucking moron. “We’ll talk then.” I wasn’t going to give her free rein to reenter my life and rub salt in the wound. I should’ve told her no, to go fuck herself, but we had history, and I didn’t want to cut the last string of possibility without knowing it was totally over between us. Her kindness on the phone made it impossible for me to say no. She did have a loving side; although I hadn’t seen it for ages. The holidays were coming up. I’d use that as an excuse for my total lack of judgment.

Carrie was my easy lay, the one who came without complications, expectations, and rules. My life was easy, but I felt it was about to get a bit rocky. I didn’t tell Carrie since we weren’t an item. I didn’t ask her if I was the only one in her life, and she never asked me. Lisa wouldn’t be in my life. I needed the closure, and maybe we’d put the hurt and anger behind us with this trip. I could get on with my life and move forward, free of the anger.