October 31, 1978, New Orleans Louisiana – The Dungeon
Freddie laughed rather preciously before allowing himself to be shoved up against the dingy, black wall in the back hallway. Smoke hung in the air so heavily it almost created a thick haze, the light was quite dim and tainted with hues of red and amber. The constant clang and clatter of empty bottles and glasses caused a commotion at the bar. Freddie exhaled as soft, tender lips caressed his; moving over to his chin, his neck and further down his chest. He moaned a little at the feeling of a hand between his crotch. He smelled of alcohol and the back hallway seemed so far removed that no one would have any idea what was transpiring back here.
“Not so fast darling, let me taste those lips some more.” Freddie said, leaving the young man’s hand on his crotch and feeling a tongue work it’s way into his mouth. The man rubbed on Freddie more as their lips were locked in a heated battle. Not even Freddie could fight this much longer, shoving his new-found toy down to his waist. Freddie sighed as the young man below him unbuttoned Freddie’s trousers. “Say love, is your cock as big as mine?” he asked, a horribly sly grin on his face as his pants were slid down his thighs.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo…” was what he mumbled before shoving the length of Freddie into his mouth.
“Mmm…I think….you owe me….some beads.” Freddie said, sighing and letting his head hit the wall in a thump. “Fuck….” He mumbled. Though he looked young, the man was experienced and Freddie hadn’t yet gotten his name. Freddie squirmed as his lover sucked on him faster.
“Shit….shit! You’re gonna’ have to have to slow that down, you little slut.” Freddie panted at him, giving him a wink. “What’s your name?”
The young man wiped the back of his hand and stood up. “Mark.” He answered before kissing Freddie again.
“Mark, huh? Well, now that’s boring! I’m going to call you Lacey! Tell me Lacey, have you ever been spanked for being naughty?” Freddie asked, giving Mark’s arse a squeeze. Mark gritted his teeth at Freddie.
“Naughty’s in my name.” he smiled at Freddie before kissing him again. Freddie smiled all over.
“Oh! Naughty Lacey!” Freddie giggled like a school-boy falling in love for the first time. Mark placed a strand of beads around Freddie’s neck.
“Fuck me in the last bathroom stall? There’s a handlebar in there…you know…to get naughty with. ” He said to Freddie. It plastered a grin right across Freddie’s face.
“Good, you can hold on tightly because you’ll need it, love. Come on, Lacey.” Freddie paused and downed the remainder of the vodka in his glass before pulling up his pants. “Come earn your beads, darling!”
The Dungeon was a dark, dimly lit club in New Orleans that very much resembled….well, a dungeon. Halloween at The Dungeon looked about like it did any other night, characters moving about the room of whom you weren’t quite certain if they were male or female, chains hanging from the walls and the occasional beer bottle missing the trash can and instead ending up in a puddle of glass and muck. The ambience within itself was rather ghostly tonight, faux cobwebs dotting the ceiling and the essence of a fog machine looming in the air. The air smelled of cinnamon and staleness. “You’ve got quite a few beads there.” A woman who was leaving very little to the imagination said to John. It immediately caused him to sit his drink aside. He smiled stupidly at her and the sequin top of her bikini fell to the floor before he could even say a word. “I think you owe me some beads…and maybe a drink.” She said, climbing onto his lap and waiting for a very speechless John to place a strand of beads around her neck. Still having, not said a word, John pulled the beads off his neck and adorned her with them.
“Um…are….the green beads….okay?” he asked, staring up at her and feeling a sequin fall to his face from her hair. She sunk deeper onto John’s lap, her eyes burning into his. She pushed a hand into his hair as her beads fell freely over her breasts.
“It’s the one color I didn’t have tonight.” She assured him. John gave her a very nervous smile. “You wanna’ go in the back?”
“Wh…what happens…in the back?” he asked her, still in a state of moderate shock. She looked over John’s shoulder and laughed, leaning over near his ear. It made John sweat because her exposed breast was nearly against his neck. “Why don’t you ask your friend there? Appears he’s been in the back.” She said, sliding off John’s lap. Snapping to his senses, John looked over his shoulder. He had to do a bit of a double take as he caught sight of Roger. “I’ll see you in the back.” The woman said before leaving John behind.
“Oh my god! Where are your beads!? You had like…like 50 strands a’ beads and now you have none?!” John said snapping back to reality for a moment and noticing that Roger had effectively liquidated all his beads.
“I’ve been outside havin’ a cigarette! Do you realize there are whores all over the place in this town? I was savin’ those beads, John! I was fuckin’ savin’ ‘em for the hotel and these whores out back flashed me and one of them was a she on the top a he on the bottom!” Roger looked around. “Listen….that girl? That girl that just left you? She’s not supposed to be takin’ her clothes off in here. She could get us in big trouble. This ain’t no strip joint, John. It’s a bar. The strippers are supposed to be at the Imperial Room at the hotel. Let’s go! We need to get out of here. Why the hell did we even show up here? Why didn’t we just stay at the hotel? Id’ still have my beads!” Roger said.
“You know why we’re here.” John said, swallowing the rest of his drink and sitting the empty glass onto the table. “Come on, you can get more beads on the way back to the hotel.” Roger sighed.
“He’s doesn’t really think that she’s…” John cut Roger off.
“Where’s Fred? I haven’t seen him in nearly a half hour.” He commented. Roger shrugged.
“I don’t know but come on.” He said, as he and John walked over to a very disappointed Brian.
“We need to go. We’re going to be late to our own party!” Roger told Brian.
“I don’t really care.” Brian said, his voice full of melancholy.
“Get over it, Brian! Let’s find Fred and get out of here. This was your idea anyway!” Roger said, tugging on Brian’s arm.
October 31, 1978, New Orleans Louisiana – The Fairmont Hotel
The Fairmont Hotel was clean, classy and beautiful to say the least. It’s décor was pristine and very reminiscent of the French art deco ear that fit so nicely into the city of New Orleans. Brian, John and Roger hadn’t a clue what Freddie had done at The Dungeon, but this was Freddie and this was precisely how he got the evening off to a start. The Dungeon had been a rather dark, shady hole in the wall but the Fairmont Imperial Room on Halloween? It was other-worldly. Freddie had insisted on renting 50 dead trees to up the spook factor and it did. Quite appropriate for a Halloween bash. The white tablecloth coated tables were adored with crawfish etouffee, shrimp creole, Louisiana boiled shrimp, steamed crawfish, bignets, gumbo and other creole classics like Andouille sausage and red beans and rice. The press and execs were already arrived and waiting as a long faced Brian, accompanied by Freddie, John and Roger arrived on time. Upon their arrival, the lights went down and a lot of clothes immediately came off.
“I don’t think you needed to worry about the beads.” John leaned over and said to Roger.
“That’s what you think! I want my beads back! There are a lot of strippers here willing to take their clothes off for plastic beads!” Roger reminded him. Conveniently enough, there was an enormous witch’s full of Mardi Gras beads near the door.
“Well, there ya’ go. I’m going to get something to eat and talk to the press.” John said.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be right there.” Roger said, heading for the witch’s brew. There were at least 400 people here and the earlier show had been sold out. This was decadent, overindulgence at it’s finest. Already the dance floor was littered with people and the party wasn’t even twenty minutes into it. There were flame-eating men walking around in nothing but loincloths, naked women with snakes wrapped around their arms and champagne. There were so many bottles of champagne that only one man could have ever dreamt such a thing up: Freddie. As Roger looked around the room, fully re-stocked with beads he realized that this party was going to get out of control…even by his standards. He wasted no time in filling a plate and sitting across from Brian.
“Hey. What’s wrong with you? Why do you look like you’ve been run over by a bus?” he asked of Brian, immediately starting in on the shrimp.
“The band’s really loud. I can hardly hear you. Brian said, starting in on his champagne.
“Jesus Christ, Brian! Snap out of it! What is your problem? We did what you wanted! We went to The Dungeon and…” Brian cut Roger off.
“…I don’t need this right now.” Brian took his plate and left Roger alone. He wasn’t alone long, soon being joined by some familiar faces from both EMI and Elektra. Despite press wanting to talk to him, Brian managed to sulk in the corner with champagne and fine food; watching the evening unfold in front of him. About the time Brian began counting the strippers that were here tonight, the lights would change and he would lost count and lose his bearings. At not even an hour into the party, Freddie had signed so many naked bottoms he could have started a club. John and Roger continued to eat and drink with press, talking about the concert, the tour and of course…the party. Later on that night, Roger shared a cigarette with one of the Elektra reps while they placed bets on the naked mud-wrestling women in the room off the Imperial ballroom.
It seemed as though things couldn’t have gotten any more peculiar as the hours slipped quickly away. Shit, it was near impossible to keep track of time with all of this sin going around. At 1:30 in the morning. The night was still young and Brian was on his fifth glass of champagne. He had finally gotten up from the corner, wading through the dance floor, and the flashing lights toward the area where a transvestite band played. There were plenty of lap dances happening around the stage area where the band was playing not to mention there were more public blowjobs going down than credit card on a shopping binge.
“Oh my god!” Brian heard a woman’s voice which immediately caused him to turn around. His face froze and he dropped his champagne glass to the floor. It was true, ghosts were real and on this Halloween night he had just been haunted. “Brian! Brian it’s me! It’s me!” the frantic female voice called to him. Immediately, he threw his arms around the woman who was so emphatically calling to him. Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps something else but he could feel the tears form in his eyes as he squeezed this nearly naked woman in his arms. His clammy hands shook as he squeezed her shoulder blades. He finally moved his hands to her heavily make-up clad cheeks and took a half step back from her.
“Shit….oh shit…” he sniffed. “It’s been…it’s been four years.” He said softly to her, his nose buried in the side of her head. “God….you haven’t changed a bit.” He pushed her back and looked her over again, shaking his head and completely overwhelmed. She smiled at him and wiped her caked up mascara eyes. She interlaced her fingers with his and stared up at him. Brian laughed and shook his head. “Here….god put my jacket on.” Brian said, turning a little pink from the fact that this woman was standing here before him wearing nothing but a thong and a strategically placed feather boa. “I…I went to The Dungeon looking for you and you weren’t there.” He said, taking her hands again, he jacket far too big and long for her. She shook her head.
“I haven’t worked there for three years. I moved to up to Baton Rouge. When I heard Queen was comin’ to the Crescent City and strippers were needed I immediately….immediately begged for the job and they gave it to me.” She said, beginning to feel overwhelmed. “Brian…” she smiled. “You only have one set of beads.” He shook his head and pushed her hair away from her face.
“Yeah. I only needed the one strand…for only one girl.” Brian removed his pale orange beads and put them on her neck. She sniffed and ran her fingers over the beads.
“Oh god….Brian….they’re…they’re peach colored.” She looked up to him as Brian shook his head.
“Yeah…for my sweet, Peaches…come here, baby.” In the next second, Brian was locked in quite the heated kiss with a true ghost from his past.
“You’re doing that wrong.” A topless woman said, plopping down beside Roger and taking his lit cigarette from his hand. Roger looked her way.
“What do you mean I’m doin’ it wrong?” he asked. He had been sipping champagne and eating steamed crawfish for the past half hour.
“You put it all in your mouth at once. You gotta’ suck the head and the rest comes naturally.” She said, taking the crawfish from Roger’s fingertips. He stared at her with a more than apparent champagne buzz. He finished off the rest of his glass and sat it aside.
“You’re gonna’ have to show me how that’s done.” He said, looking around before unfastening his belt.
November 1, 1978, New Orleans Louisiana – Room 719, The Fairmont Hotel: 2:34 AM
Peaches hit the bed hard, slipping Brian’s jacket off and throwing her feather boa aside. She pulled Brian down over her nearly naked body, barely covered by a black thong and a matching black bra. Her lips collided with his in a fit of fury, both of them wreaking of champagne and sweat. She moaned and arched her back up toward Brian as he unhooked her bra. He sent it flying across the room, landing somewhere. “Shit….these are the only breasts I cared about seein’ tonight.
“All yours.” Peached said desperately, moving his hands to her chest as she awkwardly reached for Brian’s pants. She moaned as she felt a combination of soft lips and softer hair on her chest. Brian was on fire as he kissed his way down her smooth body, slipping her thong off and leaving her in only peach colored beads. She dug her hands into thick, luscious, dark hair as he kissed his way down her abdomen and spreading her thighs. She moaned out as she felt Brian’s tongue between her legs. Her pushed her legs wider, wispy hair tickling her already sweaty, trembling thighs. Peaches squirmed and writhed at his touch, feeling his tongue lap her relentlessly. “Brian! Oh, Brian…” she said squirmed even more as she felt herself becoming wetter and wetter by the moment. “Brian!’ she called out again. He was just as tender and sexy as she had remembered him being in 1974…maybe a little more experienced this time around. She couldn’t take it another moment, he was going to send her over the edge and so Peaches had no other choice but to wiggle free of him and pin Brian to their sweaty bed. She clawed at his clothes until she had him stripped naked.
She kissed him with the same kind of intensity that you kiss a lover you hadn’t seen in a long time…it was very true for her. She let her eyes drink in his naked, more intoxicating than the champagne itself. Speaking of champagne…Peaches reached over for Brian’s flute which was still mostly full and poured the room temperature elixir down his chest. He didn’t even flinch at the wetness trickled over his skin. What did make him flinch was the feeling of Peaches’ tongue starting at his necking and licking what didn’t drip to the mattress off his lean, thin form. She tenderly stroked the scar on his chest, which had been very fresh last she had seen Brian. There was one part of Brian that had entranced her in 1974 and still did…she both feared and loved it and she moaned wildly as her champagne soaked lips engulfed a most enlarged cock. Brian pushed himself up to his elbows as he didn’t want to miss a moment of this. Her beads continually brushed at his inner thighs as Peaches took him deeper and deeper with her every motion. He tilted his head back and moaned out loud for her. It didn’t last long, as she had already gotten so very excited and so had Brian. She pulled her mouth away from him and laid onto the bed again, pulling Brian overtop her, She could feel the remnant of champagne on the sheets and on him.
They were so eager for each other and as Brian overtook her body, Peaches had never cried out more desperately or more intently for him. The more that she begged Brian to fuck her, the harder and more intently he obliged her.
November 1, 1978, New Orleans Louisiana – Room 732, The Fairmont Hotel: 2:22 AM
Roger lit a cigarette and put his arm around the naked woman beside him. The tv was on lowly in the background. “This is my wife.” He said, pointing to a picture in his wallet.
“Your wife? You have a wife?” she questioned.
“Yeah. This was us in 1975.” Roger pointed to the picture. She took his wallet from him and examined it closer.
“Hmm…she’s very pretty.” She said.
“Yeah. This is us when we went to Italy.” He said, showing her another picture. She looked to Roger with strange, hurtful eyes.
“You’re married. I…I didn’t think…any of you were married. Shit, it’s not like you wear a ring or anything.” She said.
“Would you relax? I don’t need to. And it’s not like we went all the way.” Roger said, taking a drag on his cigarette and flipping the picture in his wallet. She pushed herself up to one elbow.
“It’s not like we went all the way? Look, I just thought you were hot and wanted to get in your pants because I could. Don’t show me pieces of your fucking life, okay!?” She said, rolling over to where her back was facing Roger.
“Calm the hell down! We’re just talkin’. Jesus, I coulda’ eaten you out and told you to not let the door hit your arse on the way out. Look, it was my wife who taught me not to treat girls like you as if you were pieces of meat, which is ultimately what you are! I’ve had plenty of girls just like you and I know you don’t got a damn place to sleep once you leave this hotel. Don’t you give me any lectures! I’ve cheated on my wife plenty and she knows about it. I told you the rules, now come here. I’m gonna’ put my arm around ya’….you give a nice blowjob. No funny business. Lay here and go to sleep. My wife would kill me if I kicked your arse out the door.” Roger took a drag on his cigarette and held out an arm to her.
This was so weird. It made her feel…strangely comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Perhaps it was because part of what he said was right and maybe because that she knew she was nothing but a one night stand in Roger’s life and it was only right now in her confident career as a stripper did she realize it.
“Wh…why does your wife let you get by with this? Is she that stupid?” she asked. Roger shook his head.
“Don’t you dare call my wife stupid! She doesn’t let me get by with it! I’m fuckin’ drunk right now. I am gonna’ regret the hell outta’ this in the morning. No one tells you. No one warns you how much this kinda’ life tears you apart. They don’t warn you that that anything you could possibly want is handed to you on a silver fuckin’ platter. My wife is the only woman in the universe who knows how to put up with showbiz and the toll it takes. So, now that you know I’m fuckin’ drunk and I’ve poured my heart out to you, I suggest you go to sleep.” He told her. The woman’s expression changed.
“Wow. You’re very vulnerable to put up such a cocky front. Not quite sure how your wife deals with that.” She said settling back in to Roger’s arm and laying her head on his chest. Roger didn’t seem to hear her last words as he had already passed out asleep.
November 1, 1978, Surrey, England – The Taylor Estate 8:22 AM
I looked at the clock: 8:22 AM. That meant it was 2:22 AM in New Orleans, Louisiana where Roger was. I sat on the bed counting the minutes that seemed like hours: 8:24. I was so very impatient as I crossed my legs and sat back on the bed, resting on my palms. I tapped my fingers impatiently and looked at the clock again: 8:25. I sighed and threw my head back, shaking my foot wildly. I closed my eyes as I felt a bit fluttery and trembly. It was a combination of nerves and…more nerves. I gave the clock a final glance: 8:27. At last! I got up quickly and hurried myself into the bath, leaning over the vanity of the sink. There it was, staring back at me. You know what they say, seventh time is a charm. This was my seventh pregnancy test. And out of seven tests, all of them had been positive. I had taken one every day for the week. A bright pink, definitive and pronounced plus signed sat there before my eyes. It was like an etch-a-sketch that couldn’t be erased. It was definitive: I was pregnant. I was without doubt….pregnant. I.Was.Pregnant. A million things raced through my mind at once as I threw test number seven away and returned to my soft bed. I reached for the phone on the nightstand and placed it before me, toying with the cord repeatedly. I sat there alone in the silence. I was the only one who knew. I looked at the clock again: 8:37. That meant it was 2:37 in New Orleans. The biggest decision on my mind at the moment was to call Roger so he could tell me how I felt about it, or to wait and figure out on my own how I felt about….then call him.
I leaned over and rummaged through the drawer of the nightstand. I had scribbled it on a piece of paper: The Fairmont Hotel +1(504)648-8822 Room 732. I picked up the receiver and dialed the number. The phone rang, then rang again, and rang a third time.
“The Fairmont Hotel, how may I direct your call?” the American voice on the other end asked. I didn’t say anything. “Hello?” the voice repeated. What in god’s name was I thinking!? It was nearly 3:00 in the morning in New Orleans. Roger was probably passed out drunk in his room. “Um…I’m…I’m sorry. I…didn’t realize the time. I’ll ring again in the mornin’. Thank you.” I said before hanging up the phone. I chewed on my finger and looked around the room. “Pregnant.” I said to myself, running a finger over my lip. I let my head hit the pillow behind me, starring at the ceiling above me.