Feel how the word slides off your tongue: decadence. Say it again and use that distinctly Nawlins attitudinal drawl this time: deckahhhdansss.

There. Now you got it, baby.

I think you got it faster and better than our boy Cort did. Not that he didn't know all about the word decadence; nope, it was just that saying it with the proper laissez faire laze of tongue took him a few drinks to achieve.

"What have you gotten me into, hussy?" he whispered against my ear.

I bit back a chuckle. "Nothing you didn't deserve," I said. 

He is sex on legs, isn't he? Who better than Cort to tempt with the Southern Decadence Festival in the French Quarter?

"They outlawed public sex during this festival," I whispered to him when I felt his hands trying to tempt me; his body trying to convince me to do good things in a bad way.

"Party poopers," he giggled.

No, they really did outlaw public sex acts. And it was done with this particular festival in mind, do you know? It was a new law enacted in 2003 by our state's esteemed Legislature after some fanatical prude of a fanatic took his minicam down into the French Quarter the year before and filmed a couple of guys ... er ... doing the big naughty on the streets of the Big Easy during that year's Southern Decadence Festival.

Hey, we're easy. Just not that easy, I suppose.

Okay, all joking aside ... public sex is always outlawed in this city, just as it is in most places. It's just that lots of religious fundamentalists take aim on our most sexually outrageous festival and try to make points for their own personal belief that if they prefer it not happen in their own bedroom, then it should be outlawed for all the rest of us. So as soon as they showed that video to the media, well, don't you just know that a few legislators from up the Shreveport way decided to bring in the God vote in their next election by introducing a new law banning sex in public for the purposes of drawing a crowd during the Southern Decadence Festival. Heh. Like we needed one more law on the books to cover the same old public decency schmonola. I had to wonder ... did they think people attending this festival were here for public sex? Wasn't it possible we were actually here for the music? C'mon! Hey, just like at Carnival, it was always the tourists who did the nasty things - those two guys had been from some place in Wisconsin. They came here looking for liberal attitudes and they took advantage of the situation. How rude.

Well, at least it was the music that had been the real reason I'd invited Cort. If I had been driven by the sexual atmosphere of this festival, I would have invited Jeff. Why? Well, because this particular festival was first begun as a gay event. It remains a huge draw for the gay community; probably why it's such an easy event to castigate by the fanatics who cannot fathom the concept of simply accepting people for who they are. Ah, but like so many gay events here, we hetero's did eventually move in when the music got good.

So Cort had done the first day of the festival with me. We'd moved from stage to stage set up around the Quarter. We'd sampled libations down Bourbon and over to Decatur. We'd people-watched up a storm. We'd slipped in and out of clubs for the air conditioning whenever the humidity got to Cort. Some of those clubs ... oh, well, you don't need a festival to find decadent activities in the Quarter year-round.

And here we were ... and Cort was getting into the true spirit of this festival. His resistance was down. He was open to suggestions. He was making some suggestions of his own.

"Dance with me, preacher man," I told him and dragged him out into the middle of the street with me. Perfect tune for a public dance with this man. A salsa beat courtesy of Los Hombres Calientes.

We had made sure to take in their show mainly because they were a sentimental memory for us ... we'd gone to see one of their shows the time he'd come to New Orleans to visit me. We had danced a night away to their distinctive style that could set my soul singing and my body moving.

So lots of things about memories intruded as we had heard the first few numbers and just stood there on the fringes watching. He'd been leaning up against the wall of a building as we'd listened to the first number. And then he'd pulled me to lean back into his body and we'd spent the next number like that - with his arms wrapped around my waist and his chin resting on my shoulder. Swaying me to the beat and encouraging me to move my hips across his groin. Whispering in my ear about what a good rhythm this would be for us for other activities and reminding me of how just a moment in his hands was all it ever took to make me lose myself to his sensuality.

And then the next number turned the mood slow and sultry. Before I even knew it, he had turned me around in his arms and I found myself pressed up tight to his chest as he moved me into this new beat and he was never going to let this dance end easy.

Mmm, the feel of him. Moving against me. The way his chest felt like this pure block of masculinity. The particular thrust of his hips as he dominated my rhythms with his own. The whisper of heat from his voice as he whispered in my ear about what he was pretending he was doing with me. The weight of his hands as they pressed me into him. The strength of his arms as they guided me. The delirious manner in which his thigh was between mine. The nonsense that passed in my brain during this time.

"Mint juleps. Four poster bed. Mirrors on the ceiling. Strawberries in whipped cream. An August afternoon. You. Me." He muttered the words to me in time to the beat. He knew exactly what he was doing to me and he was doing it very much on purpose. Giving me this list of the things we had decided were the type of decadence we'd found in the hotel suite I'd taken for us at the Bienville House.

We'd said that one day while he was there ... we'd simply devote an uninterrupted 24 hours to nothing but our own personal definition of the type of decadence we'd like to explore with each other.

The festival as the theme of this visit with Cort. How could it lose? Decadence and Cort seem made to go together, don't they?

And when I tried to divert his attention by dragging him out into the middle of the street to dance with me to the next syncopated upbeat, he'd only pretended to be letting me lead the way. Instead, he kept me moving and danced me two blocks away before I caught on to what he was up to. I thought I'd die before we could make it back to the hotel room.

We had checked in late that morning and had only taken the time to toss our bags in and scope out the room. I hadn't actually made any special requests when I booked the room but as soon as we got a load of the four poster bed and noted the lack of canopy ... and then he noticed the mirrors on the ceiling ... He'd accused me of being a hussy, a wanton ... that I'd selected this room on purpose to entice him into decadent acts with me.

It had made me blush. I don't know why I still blush around Cort. Maybe ... no, I suspect the real reason is that he always seems to be giving me this knowing look when evil thoughts of things I'd like to do with him are crossing my mind.

So I'd tried to be bold ... I'd said that maybe I'd just have to show him that fruits other than peaches could taste good with his body. Strawberries, he's suggested with a grin, remembering my bragging about how much sweeter Louisiana strawberries were and how once he'd eaten them, he'd never want the California variety again. With whipped cream so they stay in place on you until I'm ready to devour them whole, I had said in this husky voice of a girl trying to pretend she's woman enough for this man.

He must have gotten a visual of just where on his body he'd like me dolloping whipped cream and then anointing it with a strawberry. I loved the groan he gave me.

We'll need something to wash it down with, he'd said. I had laughed at that because ... well, I think you know why. Sheesh. We're such perves.

Cort had wagged his finger at me and I knew he knew the evil thought in my brain. No, he had said, I was talking about something cold and alcoholic and perfectly suited for the heat of this climate. I imagine I looked very puzzled when he pronounced his desire: mint juleps.

"Mint juleps? This is Louisiana, not Kentucky, padre."

"Still ... doesn't that sound southern and decadent?"

"Well, you have a point there," I had said. Of course, I imagine I would have said yes to about anything because at that moment, his mouth was tasting my neck and his hands ... well, suffice it to say, he has a way of winning me over to his point of view that makes me happy to give in enthusiastically.

So as soon as he'd started whispering a reminder to me of what decadence he'd was hoping to do with those items, I doubt I was ever much trouble for him to convince that our hotel room was the place we needed to be that early evening.

Inside the lobby, we tried not to touch but it was so hard. The elevator doors closed with a 'thunk' and we were alone. Outside, the heat and depravity of the festival went on without us. Inside, the heat and his depravity induced him to begin unzipping my shorts while my own depravity dictated that I would whisper an obscene suggestion that made him curse as he shoved a hand up into my crotch and rubbed hard.

Inside our room, he called room service and ordered up the drinks, strawberries and whipped cream. We paced the room ... we tried to avoid the other ... we both knew that if we touched, we'd be in no state to accept the room service order when it finally arrived.

It took them fifteen minutes to get there. 

I thought we'd be on each other instantly when the waiter left us. But for all the rapidity of our desires ramping up, we suddenly both found ourselves wanting to slow the pace enough to get its full measure.

Southern decadence, I remember whispering to him. It's about appreciating the need to not move too quickly in the heat. So we sipped our mint juleps and joked about the waiter's insistence that a pitcher was a normal order. We took a slow bath together and finished the second glass.

Damn. There is just something about the way the water sluices down Cort's body that is like the juiciest form of foreplay.

I refused to let him dry off when we stepped from the tub. He, on the other hand, insisted on towel-drying my body and then made me sit still as he worked a comb through the wet snarls of my hair. He handed me the third glass of mint julep just before he took my hand and led me to the bed.

We sat there in the middle of that huge bed and looked up at our reflections as we slurped the drinks. We talked about what we'd most like to watch the other doing in those mirrored tiles. But there was this one point when our eyes met in the reflection and we both just knew ...

I crawled over to him and straddled his lap while his arms welcomed me into him. The taste of sugar, bourbon and mint combined with the taste of his lust to make me want to simply kiss him forever.

But I wanted to give him one sight he'd mentioned ... something I knew I'd wanted to do from the first moment he'd mentioned ...

"I think I shall name this creation 'Strawberry Longcake Ala Cort' since there's nothing short about this dessert," I giggled as I decorated his impressive cock with whipped cream dollops and strawberry garnishes.

He tried so hard to stay calm and still as he lay there stretched out on the bed and looking up into the mirror above us. But I have always had a sweet tooth ... I nibbled but I didn't ever really bite. He squirmed and sighed and told me how much he was enjoying watching. My mouth was otherwise occupied or I might have told him to watch out because I was about to satisfy my own hunger. And I swallowed down the cream and the strawberries and the cream ...

And when I finished, I felt like a glutton. I only had the energy to flop over on my back and look above me at the work of art lying near me in this bed. His eyes were shut and his chest was almost heaving and his hands were still gripped into the sheet. His sated cock rested all soft and compliant along his thigh. His mouth was open and his tongue licked slowly along his lips. And then I saw this smug grin sneak on his mouth and it made me feel divinely decadent.  I curled up right where I was and fell asleep ... done in by a day of sun, man, heat, man, music, man, alcohol, man and sweetness.

I came to in this slow, hazy recognition that time had passed. There was a soft orange light of the bedside lamp that I could see glowing past my eyelids. I didn't really want to wake up. I wanted to simply drift a while longer in the pleasant dream I was having.

But Cort can seduce me even to leave heaven, I believe. Convincing me to leave a dream behind was nothing for him. All it really took was the feel of something cold being smeared on my breasts followed by the feel of something very warm and wet and rough licking the coldness from my breasts.

I stretched and arched my back and made this indecent noise of pleasure as my eyes slid open and looked down into his. His mouth was stretched over a nipple and he cocked his eyebrows at me when he finally saw me focus on the sight.

"Oh, Cort," I whispered to him and heard sleep coating my voice. "You're so much fun to be with, amigo."

He stopped and came to lie by me. I looked above us and caught his eye. "When you look at me, Ann, what man do you see?" he asked me as he took my hand in his. He pulled it over his chest and just held that hand down with both of his. I could feel his heart beating beneath my knuckles. "Who am I to you?"

"You are my friend. Mi amigo. A lover, a spiritual confidante, a trusted man in my life. I cherish the man you are to me."

"Ah. A confidante to whom you don't always confide." Shaking his head at me in this slight rebuke that was made milder by the soft smile on his face.

"I am not by my nature a very predictable woman, padre."

"That I already knew. What I don't know is if you had something you needed to tell someone. A confession, perhaps?"

"The only thing I'd want to tell you at this very moment is that I've missed you. I haven't told you that, have I? It's been too long between visits. So much has happened in the interim."

He slid over to his side and his arms circled me. His reflection cuddled into mine and I felt the heat of him cascade over me. "Much has gotten better, though, hasn't it? You and Jack, for instance. I have been pleased to see what you have grow so deep."

I shifted against him and watched his head turn back up toward the mirror so he could see my face. "Padre? It feels ... awkward to lie in your arms and speak of my love for another man."

"Why is that? It's as it should be in our world ... why not be open about your feelings for your husband? It doesn't diminish what we have or ..."

"I'm not married, Cort," I said, too harshly, and pushed him away a bit. "God but I hate the way everyone in our world is acting like the Number One relationships are marriages. They're not."

"They are to those who wish them to be so," he answered softly.

"That's a rather pitiful definition of marriage you have then," I said. "Marriage is supposed to be about two people and it should be sacred in the faithfulness between them. What kind of a marriage is it if both parties also are involved in other sexual relationships?"

"It is our kind of marriage. You knew coming into this world that it would be about being open and loving with many of us men. But the relationship between Number Ones is theirs alone to define. It is not your place to pass judgement upon what others do in that relationship."

"I am not passing judgment. Not on what you have between you. But this marriage? If you truly feel married to your Number One, how do you justify screwing me?"

I saw his heavy frown. I felt his body tense next to me. He looked away from my eyes before answering. "I am not  ... you make it sound as if we are only ... is that what this has been for you when you're with me, amiga? Just about me fucking you?" Asking it to me softly and I sensed more than understood that I'd hurt his feelings.

"Never. Not for me. It has never been that way for me. But ..." His eyes finally came back to mine and I felt their impact. I was whispering to him, "But, Cort, marriage is something so sacred to me; I hold those vows and that concept of a singular union to be inviolate. So when some of you men term your Number Ones as your wives or say you are married to them ... well ... I am happy for you all. But it's making me feel like a slut who's screwing married men."

"That is not how we view it."

"Of course not," I chuckled wryly at his astonished face. "But it is how I view it. And it is a radical shift in our world, to me. I thought this world was never going to be about marriage. If I'd wanted to be married, I would have stayed in my portal ..."

"Your portal? What? You would have asked the Captain to stay there with you?"

"No. We couldn't really stay there. He wouldn't have been able to and I'm not sure I would have either. Never mind. It's not important." Sighing at having said something I shouldn't have. Changing the subject back to where it belonged. "See, it's like I told Jack when he came to rescue me back there in my portal. Coming back was a choice. I chose to come back for all of you. You each bring me gifts that I find enrich my life. But it's only possible to receive those gifts if I am free to experience that which is this world's finest treasure - open relationships based on affection and desire. This world was not supposed to be about possessiveness.  How free am I to adore you if you belong to another woman by virtue of marriage?"

"What about Max? The General has been married all this time and it hasn't stopped you from ..."

I shrugged. "I know I'm still floundering around the subject so I don't think I sound like I make sense. Right now, it's just a feeling I have. I have so much to think on before I would act on this feeling. Now, as to Maximus? Well, he and Bou came into this world married. And from the outside looking in, they seem strangely ambivalent about what that means. It looks to me like they have made purposeful steps to participate in the group dynamics. Dunno, Cort, honestly. I never have quite understood that. And maybe it's the main reason I'm not as close to him as I am to others. Like you and Bud."

"So Jack is okay with this? I mean, he loved being married in his other world. It's not an issue for him to not have that kind of tie here?"

"We are not married. We never will be. Neither of us feels such relationships are valid in this life for us. Perhaps his viewpoint is formed very much by the value he placed on his marriage to Sophie," I whispered to him.  "The need to label what we have together on an arcane notion such as marriage isn't necessary for either Jack or me."

"Marriage is not an arcane notion."

"It was not what I was seeking when I came here."

"Then what of us? Will you not see me again?"

"Oh, padre! I have made no decisions. And forgive me if you feel that I have denigrated the love you feel for your own Number One. In fact, it is the importance I place on your declarations of marital feelings for the other that makes me so uneasy about being with you. But this is my problem, not yours. We each have our separate paths to follow in this world. You must let me walk this one and see where it takes me."

"Perhaps I should demonstrate to you the folly it would be if you were to choose a path that leads you away from me."

I chuckled at the way his hand rubbed over my belly as his mouth kissed lightly into my collarbone. And in my befuddled brain, I noted how easily he calmed my reservations down to the point where I could lay aside these lingering doubts I was having that I was more and more out of step with the other women in the group.

Perhaps these developments were natural in a group such as ours. It wouldn't be the first time in my life that I was the last to take the logical leap into new ideas and new frontiers. Oh, my, yes indeed. If you only knew more about my past and the choices I made that made returning to this world more difficult than it should have ... well, then, perhaps I'd make some sense. But I doubt it. I do not know that I make much sense to myself in this matter.

And certainly when Cort's reflection took a fingerful of whipped cream and dropped it in a careful path along my thighs and around my apex ... certainly then, if I'd been honest with myself, I'd have seen that I never had sense when it came to the way the men in the group could make me feel.

The way Cort could make me feel.

Decadent. Desired. Delirious. Debauched. 

How could I stand on principles when he was leading me so far astray?

"You are the devil," I whispered as he dropped a smooching of whipped cream atop my mons. I squirmed as he watched me. I tried to switch from watching his eyes to looking back up at the reflection of what he was making me feel. It did no good ... I arched my neck and cursed him when the cream melted its way into my folds and tickled across my clit and down ... so slowly down ... down along my crevice until I could picture it plopping drop by tiny drop onto the sheet beneath me.

His mouth scooped up the fluffy whiteness along my thighs. He told me to lie still but knew he wanted me moving under him. He likes torturing me into disobeying his commands so that he can pretend to scold me. He likes to threaten me with a spanking discipline but we both know it is just a coy game between us.

When I finally felt the heat of his tongue do battle with the cool cream that had yet to give way to the warmth of my body, I shuddered good and long.

"You would give me up?" he asked me, his voice laden with the huskiness of his desire.

No verbal response from me. I wonder if he wanted one? I think not ... I think he simply wanted to plant the idea of how incredibly difficult that would be for me. Instead, I watched in the mirror tiles above me as this other woman gave vent to her passion for him.

She stroked his hair and vibrated to his murmuring. She whimpered and let him dig fingers deep into the flesh of her thighs. She struggled and tried not to fight it when he burrowed in deep. She watched in fascination as she came and also couldn't fail to see his eyes absorbed in fondness for her. She saw in his face how pleased he was with the evidence of what he gave her in that moment and wondered ...

What other woman would have such doubts?