French Quarter by Lacey Alexander (small books to read .TXT) 📕

café on Jackson Square, close enough to walk to from his office. Jack had meandered inside behind him, taken a seat, and watched Todd eat a po’ boy and drink a bottled water. It gave Jack a chance to study him.

The guy was handsome, he guessed, but in an all-too-average way. Light brown hair, cut short to match his yuppie clothes, thin build, nothing spectacular. Certainly not spectacular enough for a woman like Liz Marsh. And his eyes…there was something about them Jack didn’t like. He’d learned a lot about reading people over the years, and Todd Darcy looked like a man possessed…by something.

By six, Todd was striding through the Quarter, making a beeline for Bourbon Street, unaware he was being followed. He’d slipped into Club Venus so quickly that by the time Jack had paid his cover charge and come inside, he’d not been able to spot Todd in the dimly lit room, which sported a reasonable size crowd of mostly middle to upper class men, despite the early hour.

So he’d taken a seat, knowing he’d see Todd sooner or later, and now, here the guy was, pushing a folded bill into the stripper’s g-string, and looking so lost in lust that Jack felt a hard pang of sympathy for Liz Marsh. It was one thing for a guy to spend an occasional night out at a strip bar with his buddies, but one look told Jack this guy had it bad. Now he knew what Todd was so damn possessed by. He was like those guys addicted to Internet porn, only it was strippers that fed Todd’s hunger.

Rising to his feet, Jack reached into his pocket for a tiny camera hidden in a lighter. He made a slow, casual trip around the room, stopping at various spots to discreetly photograph his quarry as Todd gaped lustfully up at the next fille to take the stage, this one starting her dance in a clingy pink mini-skirt and matching camisole.

Half an hour later, Jack sat nursing his second vodka, enjoying the female entertainment and keeping an eye on Todd.

What the hell did Liz Marsh see in this guy? Maybe he made a lot of money. Or maybe they were childhood sweethearts or something. Hell, could be anything, he supposed, but without even taking into consideration that the guy lied to his fiancée to come to a strip club every night, Jack wasn’t impressed with him.

He also found it hard to believe Liz couldn’t keep the jerk happy in bed. Her sexy outfit had revealed enough to tell him she had a killer body, and her mannerisms had told him she wasn’t afraid to use it. What kind of pleasure did Todd get from strippers that he couldn’t get from Liz and her delectable curves, her sweet, pouty mouth?

Damn, a split second before Ty had walked into his office, Jack had been tempted to kiss her. Inappropriate as hell, especially given the reason she was there and that she was engaged to be married, for God’s sake, but she’d been leaning so close, a musky, feminine scent emanating from her. Those pretty berry lips had been telling him she needed somebody good, while her lush breasts strained against the filmy fabric buttoned over them and—merde, how much could a man be expected to resist? What he wouldn’t have given to take those soft mounds in his hands, to kiss their taut nipples, to suck them until she begged for more. Hell—clearly, his fantasy after she’d left hadn’t given him nearly as much of her as he needed, since it was growing now, expanding in his head. He wanted to spread her thighs, sink his fingertips into her warm wet cunt, feel her fucking his fingers, getting wetter and wetter for him, until she came on his hand.

He let out a heated breath, pulling himself back to reality, remembering why he was here. Work. He had a job to do for Liz Marsh, and a fiancé whose angle he needed to figure out. Taking a deep breath, he refocused his attention on the little weasel across the room.

Maybe Todd had a thing for strippers because it was forbidden. Maybe the lure of doing something “naughty” was what drew him. At the moment, Jack thoroughly understood that lure, if in a different way. Still, if you were into the forbidden, Jack supposed, there was no woman—not even Liz Marsh—who would be able to keep you happy.

Pulling his mind back to the present, Jack saw Todd speaking with one of the girls who’d just finished dancing—a blonde co-ed-looking type with small, high breasts and nice legs. Still seated in one of the plush chairs surrounding each stage area, he mooned up at her as she stood next to him, flirting for money. Jack pulled out his camera and took a shot from his seat.

He watched a folded bill exchange hands just before the co-ed lifted one knee over Todd, straddling his hips. As the next song began to pump a hot slow rhythm through the sexually-charged room, the co-ed began a sensuous dance as she hovered over Liz’s fiancé. Jack decided this was well worth grabbing on film for Liz and made another trip around the room to be sure he got enough angles to capture Todd’s face and to make it very clear what he was doing.

An hour later, Todd had paid three hot women for lap dances before disappearing with two more into a back room. Although Jack couldn’t follow, he snapped a few shots of the nearly-naked women leading Todd through the door labeled “private dances.”

Even as badly as he felt now for Liz Marsh and as much as he was not looking forward to telling her what he’d learned, he hoped like hell she’d want to let him take her mind off her troubles. Admittedly, sitting in the club watching comely strippers dance down to tiny g-strings had gotten him hot, but it was his fantasy about Liz that truly