Turning Point
folder
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,039
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Romance › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,039
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Translations
Austin was right, Della planned a trip to New Orleans the next day. It was, supposedly, the big event of the semester. An upperclassman that shared my major was supposed to take me on a tour of the city.
One guess as to who volunteered.
Austin was up and ready by seven thirty, banging on my door for me to hurry up. We met the other groups by the schools one van. The amount of people was evidence to Della’s selectivity.
We sat in the very back of the van, me on the seat farthest from the door and him on the wall opposite. At first I was suspicious as to why he’d laid off the flirting thing, but a few minutes into the trip he decided he was tired and that my legs would make a fitting pillow.
I just shrugged and let him lay down.
“So today is just supposed to be a tour of the city, right? We have free reign until we meet back?” Austin looked up at me, annoyed that I’d interrupted his light touch on my knee.
“No, I have to show you all the historical stuff and the usual tourist garb. The Creative Writing professor usually has you guys do a write up afterwards.” The touch on my knee moved up to mid-thigh.
“Tourist stuff? Like… what? Cause I’ve been here and seen just about all the ‘tourist garb.’”
“Toured Lake Pontchartrain?” I nodded. “The aquarium?” Another nod. “Seen the levies?”
“Yes, yes, yes! I’ve been here before, plenty of times!”
“Okay, I believe you.” He sat up and, ignoring the driver’s protest, scooted right next to me. His lips found my neck until I pushed him away, then went directly against my ear.
“Ever done Mardi gras in New Orleans and gone topless for beads? Gotten so drunk off of hurricanes that you can’t remember where your hotel is?” I moved to push his head away again, but he caught my wrist. “Gotten into a bar on Bourbon Street with a fake ID? Gotten offered money for a quick blowjob in the French Quarter?”
I moved my other hand up and shoved him roughly away. Enough was enough. “Stop being an ass; leave me alone.”
He continued to try and tease me until he realized I was truly mad at him, then left me alone to sulk on his side of the seat.
The van dropped us off in a little parking lot a block from Bourbon Street. Austin got out then waited for me to climb out as well. He stood with his head down until the other groups got a head start.
“Look, I’m sorry if I insulted you, okay?” It was muffled but sincere. Score one for me.
“Whatever. Let’s make a deal.” He looked up. “We do New Orleans my way, not Della’s way. Leave the assignment up to me, I’m not worried.”
He kicked a rock with the toe of his scuffed up black Chuck’s and nodded.
“Your first penalty for waking me up at that ungodly hour is to buy me breakfast. Café du Monde sound good?”
“Sure, as long as they have coffee.”
“Austin, have you never been to Café Du Monde?!” He shook his head, slowly coming out of his slump. “Beignets? Chicory coffee? Powdered sugar piled high?” He shrugged. “Amazing, you live here and… never mind, you’ll thank me.”
I grabbed his hand and we started off. “Does this mean that you’ve never gone topless for Mardi gras?” He laughed. “Or, Austin… have you honestly never given a blowjob for cash in the French Quarter?” A grin and poke in the side showed the real Austin once again.
By the time we’d gotten to the cheerful French café with it’s live band playing in the open air courtyard, the day was showing real potential. His hand rested on my lower back when I ordered us food and coffee. One bite of the beignets and he looked up at me, surprised.
“Good?” He said something unintelligible through a mouthful of dough and powdered sugar, some of which stuck to his lip right next to the piercing. “Good.”
We spent the next few hours exploring the shops selling masks and beads and getting our fortune told by a large woman who spat tobacco into a beer can and claimed that my upcoming gout surgery would go horrendous and Austin’s “male friend” would find out about me and kick him out.
I slowly started learning more about the enigma that was Austin. He was cocky, that was for sure, but every single time we passed a street performer, whether they were tap dancers sweating in the heat or living statues who’s only job was to stand still, he’d drop a dollar at their feet.
We were in the middle of the French Quarter when I noticed a man spouting off to a woman in front of their shotgun house. I pulled Austin over to a bench to watch.
“What do you think they’re speaking?” he whispered, despite their raised voices.
“It’s Cajun French… and a little Spanish, I think.”
He looked impressed. “About what?”
“Umm… rent? I think rent, they’re talking too fast for me.” The man reared up and struck the woman hard against her cheek then walked off, right past us. “Oh, my God…”
Without thinking I rushed over to the woman. “Are you okay?” She just crouched down and howled. I stumbled over translating my words into Cajun. With tearful eyes she just muttered about her Herman then got up to get back into the house.
Austin once again grabbed my hand we made our way back towards the bus, but about a block in a group of loud teenagers started catcalling at us and speaking, once again, in Cajun.
He laughed, requesting a translation.
“Hmm… Hey pretty lady, leave that bas-- well they don’t like you-- leave him and come get with us. We can last all night long and… bloody your…” I suddenly felt nauseous. They had gotten started on the idea of raping me. Austin noticed the look on my face and turned to face the boys. An older woman came rushing out of a nearby shop and started smacking the boys and waving her finger at them, howling in even more Cajun so rapid that it barely registered in my shocked mind.
My companion looked awfully mean with his mouth set and hair slung across one narrowed eye. “Leave it. Austin, leave it alone, they’re young and she’s gonna get them bad anyway.” He paused, then turned around.
“You okay?” He slung an arm around my shoulder and led me off back in the direction of the van.
“Yeah.” I felt wrongly calm as I rested my head on his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
The experience sure put a damper on us as we rushed back on the van and into the back. Neither of us attempted conversation with the chattering group in front of us; the silence not due to fear or anger but contemplative moods. Halfway home Austin tugged my hand until I put my head down in his lap. The heat and the incidents of the day along with the general sounds of the car working beneath us soon had us both asleep.
One guess as to who volunteered.
Austin was up and ready by seven thirty, banging on my door for me to hurry up. We met the other groups by the schools one van. The amount of people was evidence to Della’s selectivity.
We sat in the very back of the van, me on the seat farthest from the door and him on the wall opposite. At first I was suspicious as to why he’d laid off the flirting thing, but a few minutes into the trip he decided he was tired and that my legs would make a fitting pillow.
I just shrugged and let him lay down.
“So today is just supposed to be a tour of the city, right? We have free reign until we meet back?” Austin looked up at me, annoyed that I’d interrupted his light touch on my knee.
“No, I have to show you all the historical stuff and the usual tourist garb. The Creative Writing professor usually has you guys do a write up afterwards.” The touch on my knee moved up to mid-thigh.
“Tourist stuff? Like… what? Cause I’ve been here and seen just about all the ‘tourist garb.’”
“Toured Lake Pontchartrain?” I nodded. “The aquarium?” Another nod. “Seen the levies?”
“Yes, yes, yes! I’ve been here before, plenty of times!”
“Okay, I believe you.” He sat up and, ignoring the driver’s protest, scooted right next to me. His lips found my neck until I pushed him away, then went directly against my ear.
“Ever done Mardi gras in New Orleans and gone topless for beads? Gotten so drunk off of hurricanes that you can’t remember where your hotel is?” I moved to push his head away again, but he caught my wrist. “Gotten into a bar on Bourbon Street with a fake ID? Gotten offered money for a quick blowjob in the French Quarter?”
I moved my other hand up and shoved him roughly away. Enough was enough. “Stop being an ass; leave me alone.”
He continued to try and tease me until he realized I was truly mad at him, then left me alone to sulk on his side of the seat.
The van dropped us off in a little parking lot a block from Bourbon Street. Austin got out then waited for me to climb out as well. He stood with his head down until the other groups got a head start.
“Look, I’m sorry if I insulted you, okay?” It was muffled but sincere. Score one for me.
“Whatever. Let’s make a deal.” He looked up. “We do New Orleans my way, not Della’s way. Leave the assignment up to me, I’m not worried.”
He kicked a rock with the toe of his scuffed up black Chuck’s and nodded.
“Your first penalty for waking me up at that ungodly hour is to buy me breakfast. Café du Monde sound good?”
“Sure, as long as they have coffee.”
“Austin, have you never been to Café Du Monde?!” He shook his head, slowly coming out of his slump. “Beignets? Chicory coffee? Powdered sugar piled high?” He shrugged. “Amazing, you live here and… never mind, you’ll thank me.”
I grabbed his hand and we started off. “Does this mean that you’ve never gone topless for Mardi gras?” He laughed. “Or, Austin… have you honestly never given a blowjob for cash in the French Quarter?” A grin and poke in the side showed the real Austin once again.
By the time we’d gotten to the cheerful French café with it’s live band playing in the open air courtyard, the day was showing real potential. His hand rested on my lower back when I ordered us food and coffee. One bite of the beignets and he looked up at me, surprised.
“Good?” He said something unintelligible through a mouthful of dough and powdered sugar, some of which stuck to his lip right next to the piercing. “Good.”
We spent the next few hours exploring the shops selling masks and beads and getting our fortune told by a large woman who spat tobacco into a beer can and claimed that my upcoming gout surgery would go horrendous and Austin’s “male friend” would find out about me and kick him out.
I slowly started learning more about the enigma that was Austin. He was cocky, that was for sure, but every single time we passed a street performer, whether they were tap dancers sweating in the heat or living statues who’s only job was to stand still, he’d drop a dollar at their feet.
We were in the middle of the French Quarter when I noticed a man spouting off to a woman in front of their shotgun house. I pulled Austin over to a bench to watch.
“What do you think they’re speaking?” he whispered, despite their raised voices.
“It’s Cajun French… and a little Spanish, I think.”
He looked impressed. “About what?”
“Umm… rent? I think rent, they’re talking too fast for me.” The man reared up and struck the woman hard against her cheek then walked off, right past us. “Oh, my God…”
Without thinking I rushed over to the woman. “Are you okay?” She just crouched down and howled. I stumbled over translating my words into Cajun. With tearful eyes she just muttered about her Herman then got up to get back into the house.
Austin once again grabbed my hand we made our way back towards the bus, but about a block in a group of loud teenagers started catcalling at us and speaking, once again, in Cajun.
He laughed, requesting a translation.
“Hmm… Hey pretty lady, leave that bas-- well they don’t like you-- leave him and come get with us. We can last all night long and… bloody your…” I suddenly felt nauseous. They had gotten started on the idea of raping me. Austin noticed the look on my face and turned to face the boys. An older woman came rushing out of a nearby shop and started smacking the boys and waving her finger at them, howling in even more Cajun so rapid that it barely registered in my shocked mind.
My companion looked awfully mean with his mouth set and hair slung across one narrowed eye. “Leave it. Austin, leave it alone, they’re young and she’s gonna get them bad anyway.” He paused, then turned around.
“You okay?” He slung an arm around my shoulder and led me off back in the direction of the van.
“Yeah.” I felt wrongly calm as I rested my head on his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
The experience sure put a damper on us as we rushed back on the van and into the back. Neither of us attempted conversation with the chattering group in front of us; the silence not due to fear or anger but contemplative moods. Halfway home Austin tugged my hand until I put my head down in his lap. The heat and the incidents of the day along with the general sounds of the car working beneath us soon had us both asleep.