Secrets of the Tea Room Ch 07
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Secrets Of The Tea Room Ch. 13 free porn video
I was already in the dining room when Jackson came in … I don’t know if you should use the word ‘radiant’ about a man … but that’s just what he looked like … he was radiant!
‘Dana, I have some wonderful news! I just got off the phone with Rose … she will be here by Thanksgiving! Isn’t that wonderful! I can’t wait for you to meet her … of course, I’ve told her all about you and our little project and she’s looking forward to meeting you and adding in her two cents!’
As he stood by the sideboard and poured coffee he suddenly looked up at me, ‘You know what? I think I’m going to throw a party for her … a Christmas party to show her off … that’s right … all those invitations I turned down … I bet they’re all just dying to get out here and see what’s going on … what do you think, Dana? Should we?’
I had to laugh, ‘Yes …I think that would be a wonderful idea … and it will give me a chance to wear that gorgeous dress Vonne talked me into.
‘Vonne’, he interrupted, ‘I’d better get Vonne working on this right away. Excuse me for a few minutes, my dear …’ and he was still talking to himself making plans as he strode down the hall toward his office to find Vonne.
He returned a short time later, ‘Vonne will see to everything … caterers, entertainment … everything …so now that you’re finally going to meet Rose, I want to tell you how I finally won her heart …
The most famous of celebrations in New Orleans was approaching … you could almost feel the electricity in the air. Dozens of krewes had been working on floats since the day after the parade last year … this was not a friendly competition, but one that every person on every team took seriously. The captain of each team organized and directed the efforts and the results were spectacular. Floats of all sizes, shapes and automation rivaled the most imaginative mind.
Two weeks before the parade the tinkle of the bell on the front door of the Tea Room drew our attention as a costumed character entered. He must have been nearly 7 feet tall and dressed in a garish version of 17th century grandeur.
His face was done in white harlequin paint, and his cheek was highlighted with sparkling beauty mark. As Rose walked up to him, he removed his chapeau and bowed gallantly from the waist, he didn’t speak but rather flourished a large parchment envelope in a high circle over his head then lowered it to Rose’s hand.
She laughed as he snapped to attention, clicked his heels, raised her hand for a kiss, then sauntered away.
Rose headed back to the office where I had been standing in the doorway enjoying the carnival-like display. She was still smiling as she went behind the desk and began to open the envelope. ‘Oh, what fun! I’ve been invited to a masque ball to be held on Fat Tuesday … listen to this Jackson, the host has leased Oak Alley Plantation for the ball. To add to the magic of the evening, no cars will be allowed on the property and guests will be driven from the designated parking area to the plantation by horse drawn carriage.
Couples are encouraged to come separately and guests are asked not to ask direct questions of other guests until midnight when the masques are removed …’, she giggled, That might present some couples with a dilemma if they’re not careful … but it sounds just delightful … I must go now and arrange my costume. Could you take care of the Tea Room for the rest of the afternoon, Jackson?’
I smiled, ‘Certainly Rose … it’s been too long since you’ve indulged in any kind of fun … I think it will be an intriguing evening for you … go find the most beautiful costume in New Orleans and don’t give one thought to the Tea Room. I’ll lock up and see you at home tonight for supper.’
Rose had been working very hard lately. The Tea Room was always busy, she also had the addition of a Day Spa in Biloxi in the planning stages, and had been contacted about another commission in the near future.
She reacted to this invitation like a school girl who’d just been invited to the prom. She called a taxi, quickly gathered her purse and just barely had time to thank me before she was out the front door and entering the cab.
I watched as the taxi pulled away, then closed the door to the office. I dialed the phone to thank my associate as I patted my invitation in the breast pocket of my jacket … it hadn’t been too hard to secure an invitation for myself. I responded that both Rose and I would be attending the masque.
That night I waited in the study going over some accounts until Rose got home. Still giddy as a school girl when she carried in several large boxes … ‘Look, Jackson, at what I’ve picked out!’ She untied the first box and brought out a platinum wig piled high with elegant curls. Then she took out a gown of gossamer silver and pink, shook it and held it up to herself, ‘I’m going as Josephine!!’ as she spun around, ‘And the finishing touch is the masque’ … she held up a silver masque that covered her face from her nose to hairline, trimmed with soft pink feathers. ‘I don’t think anyone will recognize me, do you?’
I walked over to the table and poured both of us a glass of wine, handing one to Rose, ‘I don’t think so … about the only part of you that will be showing is your mouth and chin … I think it will be virtually impossible for anyone to identify you.’
‘Jackson, I don’t have an escort for the evening, would you like to go with me?’, she was still beaming as she sipped her wine. ‘I’d love to Rose, but I’ve already got several appointments in Biloxi to look over some land that week. I’m afraid I won’t be able to be back in time … but if you’d like me to cancel …’
‘No,’ she interrupted. As I expected, the consummate businesswoman in her took over and her eyes lost some of their sparkle, ‘You’d better take care of those appointments, I’m anxious to get the Day Spa started. Besides, some of the couples will arrive separately, so I won’t feel uncomfortable.’
Agnes came in and announced dinner and it was the last we spoke of the masque that night.
Rose was totally unaware that I not only would be at the masque, I had already arranged for my costume. I would appear as Cyreno de Bergerac and my costume included an exaggerated proboscis which would effectively conceal my identity.
While Rose and I had established a comfortable working relationship, she always managed to keep me at a little distance, never quite becoming friends, much less allowing anything else to develop. I was looking forward to that evening … she and I would meet as strangers that evening on equal footing. Since we were requested not to ask direct questions until midnight, I had hours to pay court to her.
The next week drug by, neither one of us talking of anything but business. Rose went over again the type of location she wanted for her day spa. Gambling looked like it was going to be legalized in Biloxi … in fact, our sources assured us it was a given. Rose was anxious to secure a piece of land before prices started to sky rocket when the casinos started being built.
The enthusiasm was carried on the wind and touched everyone as Fat Tuesday approached. I left at the beginning of the week before the masque and drove to Biloxi. Instead of having appointments to look over prospective sights drawn out for three days, I arranged for them all to be viewed on Monday and Tuesday. I was able to drive back to New Orleans on Tuesday afternoon. Instead of going home, I checked in to a hotel for the evening and prepared myself for the masque. At 6:30 I called a taxi and headed to Oak Alley Plantation … I didn’t even want to risk the chance that Rose might see the car and recognize it.
As I paid the taxi driver at the parking lot I was approached by a coachman and led to the carriage. He opened the door to the calash which was ornately carved with dolphins and mermaids … gilded to further emphasize their gracefulness.
A pair of black horses in matching livery patiently waited as I climbed up and settled in with three other guests.
It was dusk as we slowly made our way up the entrance to the veranda at Oak Alley. The horses proudly held their heads high and adopted a prancing gait as if to intentionally show off their breeding and ability. It gave me the opportunity survey the fantasyland carefully orchestrated by our host.
The expansive front lawn had been divided into separate gathering places as well as the Plantation House being open to guests. Tables of food were located on the veranda, in the house and around the lawn. Several hardwood dance floors had been prepared as well on the lawn.
Waiters in 17th century costume had begun to circulate with trays of champagne and music emanated from the gazebo, drifting through the spring night. Candelabras located on the veranda, buffet tables, and at the corners of the dance floors offered the only illumination as dusk faded into velvet night.
A rotund fellow dressed as Blackbeard and myself offered our hands to the two ladies in the carriage and escorted them up the steps to greet our host and hostess.
They stood together smiling never more than a few inches from each other. Dressed in patriotic colors as George and Martha Washington they received each of us, ‘Welcome! In the name of Rex, King of Mardi Gras and Baccus, Lord of Wine, Welcome. Eat, drink and be merry, for Lent starts on Friday … and Ash Wednesday is a perfect time to make your confession for any transgressions made here tonight.’
We four laughed, accepted a glass of champagne and drifted separately into the milling guests below. I stationed myself to the side of the steps which would allow me to see all arriving guests. I didn’t have to wait long before a coach pulled up with only one guest.
The coachman dismounted, opened the door and offered his hand to Josephine, Empress of France. As she stood I was suddenly happy to be alone in the shadows to drink in every centimeter of her. She rewarded him with a smile, gathered her hem in one hand and floated out of the carriage.
By this time I was able to gather my senses about me once again, I stepped into the light and offered her my hand, ‘Madame, may I present you to our host and hostess?’ I had been practicing my French accent for weeks and hoped it would sufficiently conceal my voice and not give me away. As she placed her hand on mine there was no indication of recognition, ‘Merci, monsieur.’ I gazed down at her and hoped my glance did not linger too long at her neckline. In keeping with the fashions of the day, Josephine’s dress was designed with a tightly fitting empire waistline just below her bust and the neckline plunged to reveal a lustrous cleavage.
Just in time, my eyes raised as she tilted her head, surrounded by the soft silver masque her green eyes seemed not green at all, but emerald … shining and sparkling … we had reached the top step, ‘General and Mrs. Washington, may I present Josephine, wife of the most fortunate man in Europe, First Lady of France …’
General Washington smiled widely at the introduction and Mrs. Washington dropped a small curtsey, ‘Your highness, is this your first trip to the Americas?’, General Washington continued the game.
‘Oui, monsieur, with Napoleon flitting about to Egypt or Austria or Russia or Lord knows where, I’m afraid France has become rather boring. I eagerly accepted your invitation and welcomed it as a respite from my tedious duties of the empire.’, she returned the curtsey.
General Washington took her hand and kissed it, ‘In the name of Rex, King of Mardi Gras, and Baccus, Lord of Wine, I welcome you and commend you into the special care of Monsieur de Bergerac. Eat, drink and be merry …’
She took my arm and we strolled around the veranda sipping our champagne. We spoke little … the comfortable silence between us needed no banter as we watched other guests.
‘Madame,’ I asked her, ‘would you care for something to eat and another glass of champagne … it would be my honor to serve you.’
She nodded behind her fan and found two wicker chairs on the fringes of the festivities to wait for me. I returned with two plates and a waiter bearing champagne in tow. We nibbled, sipped and watched the play of the masquerading guests. Cleopatra flirted with Doc Holliday … Caesar danced with a flapper … Al Capone lustily eyed a belly dancer.
It was people watching at its best. Now and again, and only if you were very observant, you’d notice a guest slipping out of the candlelight and making his way to the formal gardens at the rear of the plantation. Josephine tapped my hand with her fan, Watch Al Capone …’ and directed my attention toward the dance floor just in time to see Mr. Capone tip his hat and smile at the little belly dancer. She giggled, the gold coins surrounding her bra tinkled as a result and he took his leave of her.
He nonchalantly walked around the dance floor, paused to pick up two glasses of champagne and ducked out of the light around the veranda. We watched as the little belly dancer accepted another invitation to dance from a pirate. As soon as the song was finished, she made her excuses and meandered her way through the crowd and stepped into the darkness after a quick look around.
I saw the devil dancing in those emerald eyes and she flashed a grin at me, ‘Monsieur de Bergerac … would you care to have some fun?’ I was taken aback and disappointed in her, I had never known Rose to indulge in a dalliance during all these months, and I was surprised at her suggestion, ‘Madame, just what do you have in mind?’ I managed a leer as I leaned closer to her. ‘Shame on you, Sir! I mean to play a trick on Mr. Capone and his little concubine … are you game?’ I smiled in earnest that time, ‘Certainly my lady, lead and I shall follow.’
We discretely made our way into the night and slipped along side the plantation house until we found ourselves at the entrance to the formal gardens. As was the style, the shrubs and flowering plants had been laid out to form an intricate maze, adorned with statues of skimpily clad maidens and young men. Occasionally a concrete bench had been fitted into a secluded corner and that’s where we were sure we’d find the infamous Scarface and his little harem girl.
They weren’t hard to find at all … we only needed to listen for the jingling of the coins.
We entered the maze holding hands … it was black as ink in the maze without even the candlelight to guide us. The gentle night breeze carried the first sounds to us, a slow steady rhythm pulling us further into the maze. The sound stopped and so did we, standing perfectly still, straining to hear the next sound and let our eyes become accustomed to the dark.
When the tinkles started again, Josephine smothered a snicker and we started toward the sounds again. As we approached, the movement of the hedges alerted us to the oblivious couple on the path opposite us. We stopped and started listening again, at first only ‘umphs’ and ‘umms’ …then the sound of many gold coins being flung and hitting the ground, ‘Let me look at those tits … baby, you gotta set! Come here …’ As he backed up to the concrete bench she answered him with a giggle and a swishing sound accompanied by little chimes as the gold coins began to move in union with the swish.
Josephine put her finger to her lips and we crept further in, peeking around the end of the hedge. There sat Mr. Capone with his glory waving in the night air. The little dancer was performing felleciato as he tangled one hand in her hair to encourage her motion and fondled her breasts with the other. He had begun to groan softly when Josephine pointed at the gold bra on the ground, ‘Shhh’ was all she said as she tiptoed to retrieve it and slip back to our hiding place.
Within a few minutes Big Al pulled her head back and smiled, *Your turn now, Baby!’ He stood and pulled her over t
o the concrete bench, softly laying her down as he flicked his tongue around one nipple then the other as his hand drifted down to the low cut girdle she was wearing. She was eager and offered her hips up to his touch.
He kissed her again full on the mouth and took a position on his knees at the end of the bench. His fingers ran around her girdle and began to slip it off her hips, he didn’t pause until she was naked in front of him. She parted her legs to receive his kisses eventually bringing her feet up to the concrete bench. He threw her pantaloons freeing his hands to push up her bottom as she dropped her knees and started to moan.
Josephine crooked her finger at me so I leaned in to hear her whisper, ‘Follow my lead, and speak loudly!’ She stood straight and exclaimed, ‘I’m sure I saw her come this way, sir … surely we will find her soon … perhaps she’s just gotten confused in the maze …’
We started walking taking exaggerated steps to make as much noise as possible. We heard What the shit!’ and a squeal, we turned the corner just in time to see Al Capone quickly abandon his prize and make a hasty retreat while the little dancer rolled off the bench and scooted under it out of sight. We clomped our way down the path to the place where her pantaloons lay. Josephine, swooped down to get them saying, ‘I must have been mistaken, Sir … there is clearly no one here.’ And she steered me back down the path we had just come and started to run.
Once out of the maze, she doubled over with giggles, ‘I bet she’s still in there looking for her clothes! Quick, go hide these beneath the azaleas’, as she handed me the gauzy costume. I wadded them up, stuck them underneath the closest bush and returned to her. She was still laughing so hard she had gotten the hiccups … this was a playful side I had never seen of Rose, and I liked it.
She flicked her fan open and began to quickly fan herself as she tried to control her giggles and hiccups. I took her other hand and led her to the wicker chairs we had occupied earlier, ‘One moment, cheri …’ I bowed slightly and found the nearest waiter securing two more glasses of champagne.
When I returned and handed a glass to her, she merely replied, ‘Merci’ and turned her attention to the dance floor. Again the silence between us begged not to be interrupted as we relaxed and caught our breath. Suddenly she snapped her fan closed and motioned toward the far side of the lawn … there, barely perceptible … but totally bare … we saw a young woman running from tree to tree … trying not to be noticed and trying somehow to escape the party without detection.
I chuckled and Josephine tapped her fan on her chin, ‘I wonder what kind of tip the coachman will take to keep her secret …’
I put down my champagne glass, and stood as the band began to play ‘Moonlight Serenade’, ‘Your Highness,’ I bowed slowly, ‘would you care to dance?’ She rewarded me with a smile … her smile … the smile that nearly always took my breath away … Why yes, thank you, monsieur.’
I offered my right arm and she took it, I couldn’t help but gather her small hand with my left hand as I guided her to the dance floor. ‘Napoleon, I fear is a fool to allow you out of his sight for a moment. There are no conquests in the world to equal the conquest of the beautiful Josephine.’
She raised her head to look at me and I could see the question in her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure, ‘I’m afraid, monsieur, that Napoleon has found another. He has fathered a child by his Polish whore and returns to France to divorce me … I’m afraid I soon will find myself alone in this world again.’
Only Rose … beautiful, bright Rose could continue to play this game of words … pulling true events from history to transmit her availability … using an emphasis on syllables to convey a double entendre. I gazed down into her eyes again, ‘Then, my lady, the man is a fool, for rather should he hunger to hold you than to hold in his power all of the known world.’
Alma
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