The time had been set for noon, when the sun was swollen to its fullest in the bright Saturday sky. It was now 11:00 am, and her hotel was within walking distance of the Audubon, allowing enough time to stop and grab a bite to eat on the way. If the events ahead were anything like what she had imagined them to be, she would need sustenance for energy. She located a diner, ordered and finished half a sandwich, and continued downtown.
When she reached Louisa Street, she stopped. Ahead of her were two large black iron gates opening into the St. Vincent de Paul Cemetery. Like all cemeteries in New Orleans, this one was tightly packed full of raised tombs. She stared, observing the white, weathered buildings and oxidized iron crosses topping practically every monument, and her mind wandered, forming a fantasy. This required her to meet him between the maze of mausoleums where she imagined him grabbing her, pulling her inside the confinements of a burial vault, and frenziedly fucking her amid the cold decay of concrete. Both of their bodies grinding in succession, blanketed by shadows as a single window radiated light toward them, highlighting the sweat glistening in a layer over their pale skin. If there were a bench inside, she would force him onto it, straddle him reversely by placing her legs on the outside of his and thrust herself onto the rigid shaft presenting itself from his lap. Neither cared about the death lying a few feet away; their sole focus was on extracting the hot, sweet fluids seething within each other’s groin. Read more »