They finished their coffee and wandered about the dirty streets, smelling the heavy scent of roasting coffee from along the river. The scents, the sounds, the casual frivolity of the city gradually permeated her. Sheri shook off her depression and walked through the small shops along Chartres Street, enjoying the balmy Southern day. They ended up just before noon at Jackson Square. The fence was covered with art displays as the artists stood about the sidewalk, hawking their work. Along the front of the cathedral were various groups of musicians playing in frantic competition. What they lacked in artistic ability they tried to make up in fervor and volume. Sheri laughed as the sound of a steam calliope cut over all the din. A steamboat on the river had joined in the general melee and its whistling tune carried the day before the hapless musicians.
Marianne led her down the sidewalk, studying the painting. The young blonde walked about, amazed at the prices. When she had furnished her apartment, she had paid more for prints than these people were asking for original art. She stood and watched one of the men sitting on his small stool and sketching the intricate details of a shrimp boat. He looked up and smiled warmly, then returned his concentration to his art.
Sheri glanced up to see Marianne in deep conversation with a bearded artist whose eyes were glowing as they roved over the ample figure of the brunette. He gave Marianne a few of the most suggestive looks Sheri could imagine as he talked rapidly. His hands gestured about, then came to rest on the buxom girl's shoulders, leading her over to view samples of his work. The blonde watched the body language he used, watched the play of his eyes. She saw the glow which came over Marianne's face, the way her friend began to lean those massive tits against him. The brunette turned to look for her and waved Sheri over to join them.
"I want you to meet Ramon. He's going to do my portrait. I'll be here for a while, so make yourself at home around the Square."
The expression in the artist's eyes told Sheri that he was sorry he hadn't gotten her instead of her friend. She laughed at him, then smiled her agreement to Marianne and walked on. She planned to make a slow circle of the Square, perhaps stop for another cup of coffee, then get back about the time Marianne was finished. A half-block later she was standing in front of another display when she felt eyes studying her body. A slow tingle crept down her shoulders and ran through her tits. The tingling sensation continued through her, setting her pussy aglow before it sparkled along her thighs. The blonde looked up quickly and into the dazzling blue eyes of a smiling man beside her.
"If I can help you, let me know," he told her, his eyes meeting her with honest adoration. They stood looking at each other until Sheri suddenly began to feel uncomfortable. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her, like she was the most delicious thing he'd ever seen. She blushed openly before his gaze.
"With the paintings," he continued, his head inclining towards the display. His eyes, however, sent another message. They told of a preference to help her in some other, more personal and intimate way. Sheri struggled to turn from the eyes and look at his art. She stepped closer and pretended to study one of the paintings closely.
"One of the old masters had someone once look at his work like that," the man told her. "He had a comment for them. He told them that art was for viewing, not for smelling."
Sheri laughed and turned towards him. His eyes laughed lightly, warmly at her. He was teasing her, seeing how she would respond to such an insult. The blonde laughed back. No way would she let him get her upset. She stepped back beside him and let him explain his work. He used a trowel, he insisted. He couldn't find a palette knife large enough for his purposes at the art-supply stores so he went to the hardware store and bought trowels. The blonde stood with him, fascinated with his approach and with his openness. She studied him more closely. He was older than she had first assumed. He was probably over forty and well tanned from spending his days out in the sun. His small ad for himself that he had hung in the midst of his paintings told of years in the military. He had retired on disability and turned from warrior to artist. The blonde wondered what disability he had as she watched him sell a painting to a couple who had just walked up. He gave them a brochure on his work, then came back to her.
"I've made my expenses for the day," he smiled. "What say we go for a cup of coffee?"
It was the most normal thing in the world to accept the offer. She accepted so smoothly that she didn't really realize it until they were walking down the street, and in arm. The blonde enjoyed the great tinge, however. Everyone seemed to know him. All the driven of the horse-drawn buggies that plied the French Quarter waved as they passed, then turned and said something to their passengers, who all stared at the two of them as the buggy moved slowly on along Decatur Street.
"By the way," he said as he ushered her into a bar, "my name is Roy. Roy Shelton."
"Sheri McAlister," she answered, then looked questioningly at going to a bar for coffee. She saw him laugh at her confusion, then motion to the bartender.
"Two coffees," he ordered, then held a chair for her to sit at a small table. He stepped to the bar and picked up their coffee. Sheri smiled up at him as he sat across from her. The coffee had been laced with brandy, giving extra, body to the normally strong and heavy New Orleans blend. The blonde sat back and let the glow run through her body. She accepted a second coffee as she listened to Roy's running comments on the life of a Jackson Square artist. They were a mixture of real talent and carnival types. The girl was fascinated by his stories. She drank a third coffee without realizing she had finished her second. When he led her from the bar and turned her down a side street towards his apartment, she went along with him readily.
Roy had her charmed. She'd never met such a man of the world. He had been everywhere, had done almost everything. He could have settled for a soft life on his retirement pay, but had preferred exploring all sorts of new and intriguing lives. He'd been a carnival barker. He'd been a comedian at one of the Bourbon Street bars. He'd tried various business adventures. Roy wasn't sure how long he would stay at his art. Until something else seemed more interesting, she supposed.
He unlocked his door and led her into the apartment. The blonde followed meekly as he drew her back to his bedroom and began caressing her. Later she might wonder how it had all happened. At the time it seemed the only normal thing to do. His hand came beneath her blouse and cupped over her tits while his cock pressed hard and throbbing against her body. He lifted his thigh between her legs and rubbed it over her pussy until she was panting from the excitement. His mouth covered her lips. His tongue leaped into her mouth and lapped possessively at her. The blonde shivered from his touch, from the authority with which he assumed her willingness to fuck him. The force of his personality overwhelmed her, making it impossible for her to consider anything but submission to his plans.
"You're lovely," he whispered. "You're absolutely gorgeous. If anyone had told me this morning I'd have such a beautiful piece of pussy by lunchtime, I'd have called him a liar."
He rubbed his cock against her, then lifted her blouse and kissed her tits through the bra. His fingers felt about behind her, then softly unhooked the bra and pulled it away to expose the satin flesh of her tits to his kisses. He sucked on each nipple, his tongue delighting in the way it hardened almost immediately. Sheri stood frozen as he caressed her and began removing her clothes. The brandy on top of the Bloody Mary was too much far her to resist. Her body seemed to be floating as the blouse came off, followed by the bra. He slipped her slacks down her legs and looked at her adoringly before reaching for the tiny green panties. She could see the frantic throbbing inside his pants as his cock responded to her beauty. His hands were trembling as they pulled the soft nylon down her thighs. They caressed along her legs, then slipped back up to cuddle her butt. He knelt before her and kissed her thighs and pussy.