Mardi Gras Madness (Carnival of Love)

Chapter Four

“Hurry up with your primping,” Ethel called as she sauntered in to Barbara’s room. “You going to wear that green dress?” she asked judicially as her eyes went from Barbara’s lissome figure to the green frock laid out carefully on the bed.

“Yes, I thought so.” Clad in a sheer white slip, Barbara turned questioningly. “Don’t you like it?”

“I think it’s darling. And you’re a darling.” Ethel stepped close to her and touched her shoulder lightly. “Find everything you needed?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. Everything.” Barbara turned to the bed and took up the frock in question. “It’s not so new,” she said regretfully. “But it does look nice on me.”

“You’ll look swell,” Ethel assured her. She sat in the rocking chair and crossed her slim legs. “Frank won’t pay much attention to what you have on anyway,” she said composedly.

“Frank?” Barbara slipped the gown over her shoulders and her face emerged questioningly as she shook the green folds down to cling to her body.

“That’s your date,” Ethel said. “Frank Dupree. He’s swell. You’ll be crazy about him.”

“Tell me about him.” Barbara peered in the mirror as she patted her hair in place.

“He’s a bachelor. Handsome as the devil. His father left him enough money so he doesn’t have to work... but he writes a little when he’s bored with everything else.”

“He writes?” Barbara turned with quickened interest. “How old is he?”

“Old enough to know his way around... and young enough to enjoy showing the way to a child like you.”

“Oh.” Barbara dropped to the bed and regarded Ethel broodingly. “He sounds interesting,” she said.

“I hope he’ll prove interesting enough to take your mind off the plowboy you left behind you,” Ethel said tartly.

“My mind is practically free of all burdensome memories,” Barbara assured her.

“Come on.” Ethel arose and moved toward the door. “It’s time for them to come for us. I don’t suppose we’ll do anything but ride around and get acquainted,” she added. “This being Sunday night... we’re all saving up for making whoopee tomorrow and Tuesday.”

“I’m glad we’re not going to do anything to-night,” Barbara admitted as she followed her down the stairs and out to the front porch of the Brinkley home. “I feel all relaxed... just want to sit quietly and enjoy the sensation of knowing I’m really here.”

“Frank will love you if you’re a good listener,” Ethel assured her as they found seats on the shaded porch.

“That’s all I want to do... just look and listen.” Barbara sat up ecstatically and peered out into the New Orleans night.

The Brinkley home was on a quiet street near Taylor Park, not more than twenty blocks from the heart of the city. The clatter of traffic came to them faintly, bringing the muted sound of automobile sirens and the sharp voice of the bells on the street cars on Canal Street.

Barbara was outwardly calm, though an inner chord seemed to vibrate ceaselessly as she sensed the nearness of the city. It seemed to speak to her from out of the night as she sat quietly waiting for the man whom Ethel had selected to entertain her this first night.

Home, her life upon the farm, Robert, all the sheltered existence which was her past seemed strangely nonexistent. It was as though all that had been a dream... this the awakening.

She shivered a little as an automobile swung up the street to stop in front of the house.

“There they are now,” Ethel said. She arose and ran down the steps.

Barbara followed her more slowly. She was surprised to find that her heart was thumping madly and she seemed queerly suffocated.

Two masculine figures stood by the car when she arrived. Ethel introduced her composedly to “Joe” and “Frank,” but all she could distinguish in the darkness was that Frank was tall and Joe was short.

Then Ethel and Joe clambered into the back seat of the car, and Frank was gravely assisting her into the front seat. She sat quietly while he went around to the other side and slipped into the driver’s seat.

He twisted and spoke to Ethel: “Have you any particular desires?”

“I thought we’d just ride,” Ethel said. “How about driving out Gentilly Road? And maybe cut up to the lake and find a place to park.”

“At your command.” Frank’s voice was strong and gently whimsical. Barbara relaxed against the cushion as he put the heavy car in gear and drove northward.

It was a sport touring car, with the top down, giving it a rakish air. Barbara stole furtive glances at Frank as he drove swiftly through the city. Each time a street light flashed by she had an opportunity to study his face for a moment.

She liked what she saw in these brief glimpses. It was a strong face, quiet, with a definite air of self-possession. He seemed younger than she had expected. She thought he could not be more than thirty. Clean-shaven. His profile was nice.

All she could see was his profile. He paid no heed to her at all. She was glad of that. For she wanted to adjust her thoughts before facing the necessity of making conversation.

Joe and Ethel talked and giggled incessantly in the rear seat. Barbara turned to ask Ethel a question once, but she turned back quickly with the words unspoken, a deep flush staining her cheeks. She had been unable to distinguish which was Ethel in the dark huddle.

She did not know her action had been observed until she heard a deep chuckle from the silent figure by her side.

“Don’t bother them,” Frank advised. “They’ve forgotten there’s anyone else in the world.”

“Oh.” Barbara looked at him quickly. He did not turn his head. “I... was just going to ask her a question,” she said lamely.

“You have your answer.” He jerked his head backward. “The answer to the eternal question.”

He drove onward without speaking further. They had left the crowded city behind them. The car roared blindly through the night, and Frank was an impersonal god who jested with destiny.

They had left the highway and turned left into a less-traveled way. A feeling of hopeful curiosity surged over Barbara. Was this why she had come to Mardi Gras?

The glimmer of water was ahead, dancing gayly in the revealing gleam of the headlights. The roar of the motor died, and Frank skillfully maneuvered the car to a halt beneath a spreading tree hung with gray moss. Lake Pontchartrain was on their right. Barbara leaned out toward the water eagerly, drawing in great breaths of the invigorating breeze.

A strong hand closed over hers. She did not turn her head. Frank’s voice was low: “I have an idea you’re very beautiful.”

Barbara’s heart was too full of the beauty of the night to make immediate reply. There was the sound of moving bodies behind them, and Ethel’s voice was queerly muffled:

“Where are we?”

“At the end of the line,” Frank said concisely. “All out that’re getting out.”

There was further unscrambling of limbs behind them. Whispered questions and answers. Barbara stared across the lake as she heard the back door open. Then Ethel touched her arm lightly.

“We’re going for a little walk,” she said. “Want to come along?”

“Thanks. I think I’ll just sit in the car... if... Frank doesn’t mind.” She smiled quickly at him... and was surprised to find his face so close to hers.

“Why walk?” he chuckled. Barbara turned her head to watch the couple as they moved down the shore together. Joe carried a folded robe over his arm... and they were very close together.

“They go in search of beauty.” Frank’s voice seemed to strike through her body. “And they will find it together. They have learned the secret.”

Barbara turned to him with parted lips. “Is that... the only way to find beauty?” she asked chokingly.

“For them... yes.” Frank’s eyes were startlingly black. Little points of light gleamed in their depths, reflected from the dancing lights upon the water.

“And... for us?” She was surprised when the words escaped her lips. They sounded cheaply flirtatious.

But Frank understood. “For us?” he mused. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “That is the surest receipt,” he admitted.

His arm slipped along the back of the seat and rested on Barbara’s shoulders comfortingly. “We shall see,” he murmured softly.

His hand reached up to touch her cheek, and she let herself be drawn to him. She closed her eyes, shutting out the night, his strangeness; shutting out from her mind all doubt.

Her lips were parted as he leaned down to kiss them. They remained parted, quiescently, unresponsive as he searched for an answer.

He drew his lips away slowly. “Perhaps not.” His voice was emotionless.

Barbara shuddered and let her head rest on his shoulder. It was a very comfortable shoulder, she reflected. She seemed to stand off and study this new Barbara who kissed strange men and found comfort on a man’s shoulder.

What had his kiss meant? He was the only man who had ever kissed her. Except Robert. And Robert’s kisses didn’t count. They were unlike this kiss. Yet she remained unmoved. She wanted to be moved. She wanted to know passion. And she had found peace instead.

She struggled to sit upright. His arm lay loosely on her shoulder, and his face was immobile.

“What’s it all about?” Barbara asked desperately.

“Ah.” Frank’s lips smiled. “All?” he questioned.

“You know about life,” Barbara said tensely. “I don’t know anything. Teach me... tell me.”

“Life?” Now Frank’s face and voice smiled. He shook his head. “I know nothing about life,” he protested.

“But Ethel said that you knew everything.”

“I know everything that Ethel needs to know. All she can understand,” he said simply.

“You mean... it’s not enough for me?” she asked sharply.

“I’m... afraid not.” His voice was moody and self-contained.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I thought you wanted me to.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Because I thought you wanted me to.”

“Do you always... do what girls want you to do?” Barbara asked breathlessly.

“That’s always my intention,” he told her evenly. “So long as the girl knows what she wants.”

“And if I don’t know what I want?” Barbara’s voice frightened her. It was almost shrill.

“Then... I might help you find out,” Frank admitted. “Upon invitation.”

“What has Ethel told you about me?” Barbara demanded.

“Almost nothing. Only that you were young and pretty, and were coming to see what makes a Mardi Gras tick... and wanted to have a good time in the bargain.”

“That’s all she told you?” Barbara persisted.

“That’s all. Except that she didn’t say how very young you were... nor how very beautiful.”

“Oh.” Barbara hesitated, searching for words. She was conscious of a mounting excitement. His calm infuriated her. She wanted to break through it... find the man which lay behind the cool exterior.

“I’m twenty-two,” she said slowly.

“Which is gloriously young.” His voice was grave.

“How old are you?” she flashed.

“It doesn’t matter.” He moved restlessly. “It happens that I’m thirty-five,” he said slowly.

“Suppose I told you that I’ve never been anywhere... never done anything? That I’ve lived like a half-dead thing all my life? That my mind and my body and my soul are virgin? What would you think?”

“I would never cease to envy some man the joy of awakening you,” he replied quietly.

“Suppose I told you that I broke my engagement with a boy I’ve thought I loved since childhood... just to come to Mardi Gras and learn to live?” she asked passionately. “What then?”

“Does the boy love you?”

“He thinks he does. He... he doesn’t know any more about love than I do.” Barbara’s voice was husky.

Frank did not answer her for a long time. He stared over her head unseeingly. He was more profoundly moved than he cared to admit.

“How do I come in?” he questioned slowly.

“You... you’re a part of Mardi Gras,” Barbara told him vibrantly. “Don’t you see? I have these two days that I’ve snatched from my life. I’ve given up everything I thought was solid and worth while for the sake of these two days. I don’t want to think I’ve traded my birthright for a mess of pottage. I’ve made a terrible mistake if Mardi Gras doesn’t give me back more than I’ve lost.”

“I see what you mean,” he admitted uncomfortably. “But how do we start?”

“Don’t you know?” Barbara stared at him wide-eyed.

“I admit that I don’t,” he said helplessly. “Shall I make love to you?”

“Not unless you want to,” she flashed.

“There you are,” he groaned. “You see the impasse. I don’t want to if you don’t want me to. It’s all mixed up.”

“Not half as mixed up as I am,” Barbara sighed.

She relaxed against him. He leaned down to let his lips rest upon her hair. “I could teach you passion,” he whispered.

“Would that help?” She moved restlessly against his body.

“Passion is a beginning... a motive,” he said slowly. “From that you can go on to love... to life. You can grasp neither fully until you know passion.”

“I don’t think that I could feel passion unless I were in love,” Barbara protested.

“That’s a great mistake. Perhaps the most common mistake of humankind. That’s one of the first lessons you should learn... that the two must never be mixed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will understand,” he told her grimly. “Love involves mental emotion. It warps human relationships and twists life into a Gordian knot that can only be cut through with a great deal of suffering.”

“And passion?” she asked.

“Passion is wholly physical. It doesn’t rise to the heights love sometimes achieves; neither does it carry one down to the nether side of hell as love so often does.”

“And... you can teach me passion?” Barbara’s voice was strained.

“It’s not a question of teaching. It’s simply a matter of awakening certain cells in your body. A simple and pleasant task.”

“Are you sure... I have those cells within me?” she asked brokenly. “When you kissed me just now... wasn’t that supposed to awaken passion?”

“Superficially,” he told her quietly. “Receiving adequate response, a kiss can be a very potent stimulus to passion.”

“But I felt no response,” she protested.

“You’re repressed,” Frank told her firmly. “You don’t react normally.”

“That’s what I meant,” she said sadly. “That’s why I wonder if... if I’m capable of response.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” Frank said quietly.

His left hand reached forward to fumble at her breast. She wore a tight brassiere, and his fingers could find two shapely mounds. He caressed them gently.

“This is an awkward time and place,” he said slowly. “If you’re really bent on being initiated into the mystery of sex... I’ll be very glad to make an appointment.”

His lips were very close to her neck, and Barbara was startled to feel his hot breath quicken. The fingers of his hand were clutching, and his body tensed.

A strange emotion answered from her own body. Her pulse quickened, and little fingers of flame seemed to drag downward from her breasts. She felt an uncomfortable desire to thrust herself out on the seat. Her clothes constricted her. She remembered how her instinct had told her to press Robert’s lips down to her breast.

Now she toyed with the wish that Frank might follow the same course. She was frightened by the emotion this desire evoked.

She drew away from him nervously and spoke in a husky tone:

“I... I want to make the appointment too.”

His arm tightened about her crushingly. She let her body go limp in his arms. He was kissing her brow, her eyes... her lips! Her hand slipped about the back of his head and the fingers twined themselves in his hair.

Her lips were parted and she pulled at his head fiercely, crushing his face upon her own, her tongue flickering out to meet his.

Then the spell was broken.

Laughing voices greeted them from near at hand. Ethel and Joe had returned from their amorous interlude.

Barbara slipped down into the seat and stared out across the water. Her breath came pantingly and it seemed that her heart must leap from her body. There was a strange buzzing in her ears which reduced the words of the others to a vague murmur.

She wanted, only, to be alone for an opportunity to examine this surging force which had been unloosed within her body.

Frank drove the car homeward in silence.

He helped her alight when they reached the Brinkley home, and Barbara was surprised to find that her legs would sustain her weight. He bent to kiss her, but she slipped away from him.

“Please,” she murmured, “not yet.”

Joe and Ethel were interlocked in a straining embrace which magnificently disregarded the other couple.

Barbara turned away and waited impatiently for Ethel to join her. She wanted the security of her bedroom... the only place of safety in a chaotic world.