The New Orleans Foursome

The dog jumps on the bed, nearly stepping on my nose, and burrows under the sheets. He seems to follow my body, his little paws scratching my legs as he keeps crawling further down until he settles somewhere between my feet and starts licking my toes. I’m way too warm, but I could get used to this.

This. G’s hand resting on my thigh, his light snores barely a whisper. I reach back to let him know I’m there, my fingers brushing Antoine’s firm body on their way. He’s spooning me, lying naked between G and me. Some time ago, half an hour maybe, I lost track, I watched G fucking him, slow and steady, the pleasure widening Antoine’s eyes with each thrust.

I was kissing him at the time, Antoine and I breathing into each other, lips wet with our bodies. JD was deep inside me, holding my waist in his big hands, watching G fuck his husband. My dick’s starting to get hard again thinking back to that moment, holding Antoine while our husbands fucked us, their rhythms somehow synced.

I cannot believe I’m here, naked and hard in this gorgeous shotgun house. I loved it the minute I walked in, greeted by a marble bust wearing a top hat. Plants everywhere. Cases of taxidermied insects, butterflies and scarabs pinned above their neatly written Latin names. Paintings in gilded frames so big they rest on the floor, slanted against dark walls yet still reaching the ceiling.

It felt like the heir to a colonial fortune had fallen on hard times and been forced to downsize, cramming his prized possessions into the servant’s quarters. He probably lost his money gambling and fucking his way through New Orleans. I smile to myself, weaving in and out of sleep. It shouldn’t work, but the taste is impeccable. I wanna downsize, gamble, fuck my way through New Orleans and move here, too.

The ceiling fan whirs, sending warm air through our intertwined bodies. I thought I was the only one still awake, but I feel Antoine’s light kisses on my neck and his hand on my dick. JD’s stirring, too, his broad back shifting against my chest. He hooks one of his legs between mine, gently pushing their dog out of the way, and brings me closer. Antoine takes hold of my cock and guides it between his husband’s muscled Arkansas cheeks. I let him use me to tease him, my dick slick with desire and with all of us.

“Fuck him,” he whispers in my ear, before kissing it. “Fuck him for me.”

“I thought he only was—”

Before I can finish my sentence, JD pushes himself against me with a grunt.

I tried to organize drinks with them ever since I left Poor Boys to follow Chase down the rabbit hole. I liked them both straight away, and not because Antoine blew me between a rusty caravan. Though I guess it might be as good an indicator as any that they’re my kind of people.

It’s a mystery to me, but while I won’t fuck my friends, I’ll want to be friends if the sex is good. Go figure. We kept in touch all week before connecting Friday night for a burlesque show. In a commitment to sobriety I would not have been capable of, Alex drove the four of us across town to catch a glimpse of perky breasts hiding behind ostrich feathers. Count me in.

Alex blasts Purple Disco Machine, swerving through the tight streets, windows open. I’m sitting between Antoine and G in the back, trying not to speak in French, trying to keep my hands to myself. JD’s riding shotgun, ginger hair blowing in the wind. If I close my eyes I can see him driving a John Deere, surrounded by nothing but cornfields and hate. I wonder what he’s thinking about, surrounded by four French guys, three of whom he met last week. I’m about to ask when Alex plays Let’s Have A Kiki and I can’t do anything but sing.

The lounge is exactly the kind of place that could only exist in New Orleans and probably already existed when they filmed Live and Let Die. We walk in laughing, still singing, into a narrow room with mismatched velvet chairs and a low stage that’s more suggestion than architecture.

The jazz trio is already playing when we squeeze in, finding seats wherever we can, knees and elbows touching strangers who quickly become acquaintances. Antoine ends up next to me, JD on his other side, G somewhere behind us with Alex and the rest of his friends.

The music swells and the feathers come off one by one, slowly, in no particular hurry. Nobody’s in a hurry here. Antoine leans over to say something in my ear and stays there a beat longer than necessary. His hand finds my knee in the dark. I put mine over his. On his other side, I catch JD watching us. By the time the second act starts, we’ve stopped pretending we’re just watching the show.

Midnight rings, ushering in G’s birthday. By that point we’ve moved on to the closest gay bar, using my earring to do bumps between cars, stealing kisses under mossy trees.

Another night, another dive bar. The crowd is older, the music louder. Leather and beer bellies bumping against me. I let a big bear grab my ass as I walk by to get cash from the ATM, then stop to let him grab it again when I make my way back to the bar.

The jello shots are so cheap I buy the whole tray and give half of them away to friends I made minutes ago. Despite the late hour, the heat and humidity have reached unprecedented levels, dragging my hormones along with them.

G slides a finger into the small plastic cup to dislodge the pink jelly, then swallows it whole without chewing. I see him hesitating for half a second before he raises his finger to Antoine’s face and traces his lips with it, leaving sticky vodka in his wake. Then he kisses him right there against the pool table. Despite everything, my dick stirs.

“I think I’m going home soon. Are you coming?”

“Am I—what?”

I turn around to see Alex, car keys dangling from his index finger.

“I, um, think we’re gonna stay a little longer. Are you sure you wanna go?”

“Yeah. Bike ride in… six hours,” he says, looking at his watch. “If you wanna join, we leave at 7 to beat the heat. I have extra bikes for you and G.”

I do, I really do. But I wanna watch G fuck Antoine more. I hug Alex good night and let him know we’ll find our way back on our own. I make my way to the bathroom, drunkenly playing with my earring.

I try the door to the only cubicle and find it unlocked, but occupied. The smell hits first. Sweat, poppers, the cramped musk of a small space doing more than it was designed for. A guy is on his knees on the sticky floor, wearing nothing but a jockstrap and a leash, his face buried in the crotch of the man holding it.

The guy standing has one boot up on the porcelain rim, head thrown back, not even looking down. The leash is wrapped twice around his fist. He looks at me over his boot and pulls the leash tighter. The guy on his knees gags and adjusts, but keeps on working.

“Wanna join?”

I look at them for a second, hand on the door, taking it all in. I can’t believe his bare knees are touching this floor.

“I’m good,” I say. “Have fun.”

I leave the door open and let them at it.

“I think we’re going home soon. Are you coming?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

I lean forward and kiss JD on the cheek.

Back in the Uber, it’s all any of us can do not to start fucking right there, crammed on the backseat. I can literally see JD’s dick pushing against his pants. G’s hand is down the back of Antoine’s pants, hidden from the driver but not from us. Fifty percent chance he’s fingering him. No, make that seventy-five.

“When is your baby due?”

“Not quite yet,” G says, taking out his hand, “or we wouldn’t be here, but we’ve never been closer. A few more weeks.”

“I heard it takes a village,” I say. “We could do with a few more villagers.” I cannot believe I said that out loud. My brain is fried, but for a moment I can actually see it.

The shotgun house announces itself with a lit porch and a dog barking once, halfheartedly, before deciding we’re not worth the effort. Antoine finds his keys on the third try. He licks one before using it. The marble bust watches us file in, top hat slightly askew, definitely judging us. Streetlight pools through the windows, giving the room a dark, golden hue.

We make it as far as the living room. G pulls Antoine toward him by the waist, and I watch them kiss properly for the first time, unhurried. JD steps behind me, his hands on my shoulders, his lips on my neck. I lean back into him and close my eyes.

“You guys wanna drink something?” Antoine asks, surfacing briefly. “There’s rosé in the fridge and a ton of seltzer.”

“Or something? Gin, vodka?” JD asks.

“Harder than this?” I say, reaching back to grab JD’s cock. I regret my comment as soon as I make it, but he laughs. “I could do with a glass of wine, actually.”

Antoine pulls a bottle of rosé from the fridge and JD finds glasses and a plate while G and I lean against the kitchen counter, his hand finding mine. We pour and drink and graze, wine glasses clinking, passing straws between us, the four of us moving around each other in the small space with the ease of people who have known each other much longer than a week.

Eventually we make our way to the bedroom, nobody quite sure whose hands are whose. Shirts come off first. Then shorts. Antoine has that tight French body that looks better without clothes, all compact muscle and olive skin. JD’s bigger than all of us, corn-fed muscles and confidence everywhere.