Objectify Me: A Fireworks Novella (The Fireworks Novellas) by Bibi Rizer Read Free Book Online

clothes on.”
    She laughs. “Different how? Better? Worse?”
    “Just different. More relaxed.”
    “You look more relaxed, too. Did you get laid on the way back here?”
    I look back down Bourbon Street at the neon lights of bars and restaurants, the streamers and glitter everywhere. And the beautiful people – beautiful women, beautiful men. Everything looks beautiful suddenly.
    “I had a few offers,” I say. “But I declined them. And what about you? Have you had a Mardi Gras kiss yet?”
    She shakes her head.
    “Where’s your boyfriend tonight? Or your girlfriend?” Smooth. Hitting her with a practiced line made current with a little twenty-first century open-mindedness.
    “I don’t have a boyfriend. And we know you just got dumped. So…”
    “That works out kind of well, doesn’t it? I was thinking of getting one of those frozen cocktails. Want to come with me?”
    She takes my arm and pulls me down Bourbon Street. “No more Hurricanes for you. That’s my advice. Have a margarita.”
    We walk past the ancient Lafitte’s Blacksmith Pub where drunk tourists are singing House of the Rising Sun at top volume. The next block is kind of quieter – a little break in the crowd gives us some breathing space. I pull her to a stop in the middle of the road.
    “Listen, this is weird. But you said I should kiss a random girl on Bourbon Street. And the doorman at the hotel said I needed to ask a pretty girl if I could kiss her. And then here you are, on Bourbon Street, randomly and prettily. That seems like more than a coincidence. Don’t you agree?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. So…can I kiss you?”
    She grins. “Yes.”
    Before she can change her mind or I can chicken out, I grab her by the waist and pull her forward. She tips her face up to me, and I kiss her. I’m sure I start out meaning for it to be just a friendly, fun kiss. You know, like that famous one of the sailor and the nurse? Something picturesque and polite that the New Orleans Tourist Commission could put on a postcard. But the moment our lips meet, fireworks start going off.
    No, I mean really. A fireworks show starts down at the river and lights up the sky above the buildings on Bourbon Street. We both kind of laugh and find our mouths open against each other. And it just feels natural to dart my tongue into her mouth. She wraps her arms around my neck, sliding her fingers over my hair while I pull her body against mine. And I’m back to being hard as steel. Only this time it’s not so uncomfortable, even though I know I’m pressing into her pelvic bone.
    The fireworks continue and I’m dimly aware that people are streaming past us hooting and whistling encouragement. “Give it to her, bro!” someone says. And someone else, “Get a room!” We ignore them. I’m wondering when Charlotte will pull away. I even loosen my hold on her waist, but she just grips my neck and caresses her tongue against mine. I’m sure as shit not going to put a stop to it. And she doesn’t show any signs of letting up, so now I’m wondering if we’re just going to stand here kissing until they demolish Bourbon Street around us and build a highway overpass like in that Dr. Seuss book.
    She tastes like lime and sugar, and her mouth is warm and soft. My cock throbs as I think about what other parts of her might be warm and soft, too. Just when I think I might slide down on the ground with her legs wrapped around me, she pulls back. I sneak a look down at her cleavage which is moving up and down as she breathes heavily.
    “So…what’s your hotel like?” She looks back over my shoulder to the hotel a block away.
    “It’s nice. Pretty quiet. Quaint, I guess you’d say. It’s decorated with antiques and stuff.”
    She looks up at me through her eyelashes, nodding, a twinkle in her eye. “And your room? That’s nice?”
    “Yeah, good. It’s like a two-bedroom suite, because I came with two friends. So they let me have the bigger room because I organized