Mardi Gras Madness (Carnival of Love)

Chapter Six

“Come on into my room,” Ethel suggested after she tied Barbara’s domino securely. “I’ll slip into my costume in a jiffy and we’ll be off.”

“Just what will we do to-day?” Barbara asked as she followed Ethel. “To-morrow’s really Mardi Gras, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” Ethel assured her. She tossed the robe on the bed and stepped out of her pajamas. “But there’ll be plenty to see and do to-day. The streets will just be overflowing with crowds... everybody jostling and happy and ready for everything. Tomorrow is really supposed to be the day for masking and street dancing,” she went on as she disappeared in a closet and returned with a gay Columbine costume over her arm.

“There won’t be any street dancing to-day?” Barbara’s tone was disappointed. She sat upon the bed and regarded Ethel gravely. “Your costume’s beautiful,” she told her.

“Do you really like it?” Ethel asked as she slipped into it. “I do think it’s becoming to me... though Columbines are awfully common during Mardi Gras. But Joe wanted to be a Harlequin... so I got it to please him.”

“Will we see people you know to-day?” Barbara asked anxiously. “Or will we just be with strangers?”

“We’re supposed to meet Frank and Joe with a crowd at the St. Charles at four. We’ll just play at sightseeing until then. You’ll find there’s plenty to do,” Ethel assured her gayly. “New Orleans has on her holiday attire... visitors have just been flowing in for weeks... there’ll be plenty of celebrating to-day.”

“Doesn’t... King Rex come to town to-day? Isn’t there a big parade and celebration and something on the river?” Barbara asked doubtfully. “Seems to me I’ve read about that always being on Monday.”

“It used to be. Rex used to land at the foot of Canal Street on Monday and formally take over the affairs of the city. But they had to cut that out because of so many accidents during the river pageant. Rex won’t come till about eleven o’clock to-morrow morning. That’s when the whole city really goes wild, of course. But you won’t find thrills lacking to-day,” Ethel promised.

She adjusted her domino before the mirror and turned toward the door. “Let’s get off,” she said excitedly. “I’m looking forward to a world of fun just showing you off.”

“We’ll take a street car,” Ethel proposed when they went out the front door. “I could use the car if I wanted, but an automobile is just a bother once you’re downtown. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” Barbara laughed. “A street car is an adventure for me.”

They walked in silence the few blocks to the street car line. A battered car passed them, loaded with a dozen or more happy youths from Tulane University. They shouted greetings and invitations to the two masked girls, but Ethel smilingly shook her head.

“You mustn’t mind being shouted at,” she told Barbara. “Every girl that wears a costume and mask is advertising “that she’s looking for a good time. Just take all the invitations as compliments... you don’t have to accept any you don’t want to.”

Barbara was ashamed to tell Ethel how thrilling it was to be shouted at by a group of boys. She wanted invitations... heaps of them. She wanted everything that Mardi Gras offered. She wanted to sense the exultant freedom she saw depicted on every face. She wanted to grasp the peculiar “feel” of Mardi Gras and hug it tightly to her bosom.

The street car was gayly decorated and crowded to overflowing when it paused at the corner. But the conductor smilingly assured them that there was plenty of room for two more as pretty as they, and he made a place for them on the platform.

Barbara was wedged in tightly against two men... with Ethel separated from her in the jam.

One of the men was a scholarly appearing gentleman with a pink feather rakishly askew in his Panama. The other was a fat man with a pudgy face, and a rounded belly which rubbed ingratiatingly against Barbara.

“You are very beautiful,” the scholarly gentleman whispered in her ear.

“My God! but you are swell... and all alone, hey?” the fat man leered at her from the other side.

Barbara smiled absently at both without appearing to hear them. Her wide eyes were receiving impressions too fast for her racing mind to assimilate. She saw Ethel talking animatedly with a thin man who wore a derby several sizes too small for him cocked over one ear. Ethel smiled at her and winked impishly.

Barbara smiled back. Her body quivered with a strange exultation as the heavily laden car moved slowly down toward the business section of the city where the holiday spirit was more in evidence and the sidewalk throngs were more boisterous and feverishly gay.

They descended from the street car near Lee Circle, and were immediately drawn into the vortex of merrymakers. Staid men and gracious ladies lost all sense of personal dignity in the mad rush for fleeting happiness.

The morning passed swiftly for Barbara. She clung close to Ethel and was glad to follow her lead. Later, she found that she retained only kaleidoscopic memories of her initiation into carnival spirit.

The milling crowd at the corner of Gravier and St. Charles, where the boy kissed her upon the lips... only to be whirled away and soundly slapped by the buxom lass who accompanied him.

The exultant moment in Lafayette Square where a laughing group surrounded her and forced her to execute a series of dance steps before they would let her go. She always blushed at that memory. She had twirled her skirt shamelessly, and she never forgot the poignant hope she had seen on many masculine faces.

So it went on. The morning was a mirage of happiness. Gay shouts and joyful laughter. A dozen times men seized and attempted to draw her from the swirling crowds... and a dozen times she laughingly resisted. No one seemed to mind either the invitations or the smiling refusals. All were a part of the Mardi Gras game.

She found that she simply could not regard the whispered proposals as insults. They were freely offered: as freely rejected or accepted. No one seemed to pay others any particular heed. All were participants in the greatest fête yet devised by man. As participants, the rules were simple: Simply to seize what one wished and what was possible for one to grasp... all else was offered freely for those who wished to accept.

Barbara and Ethel were munching hamburgers bought from a sidewalk vendor when Barbara noticed the two girls in the male costumes of Harlequin and pirate.

They were a striking couple. Both were extremely tall, and they carried their costumes with swaggering ease. The pirate was a brunette with bobbed hair tied tightly back with a gay ribbon. The Harlequin was very blonde, with golden hair trimmed exceedingly short. Both wore black dominoes, from which their eyes peered forth boldly.

The pirate smiled warmly when she caught Barbara’s eye. She turned to her friend and spoke in a gruff voice:

“Methinks I see fair prey. Yon shrinking Quaker takes my fancy.”

“And a Columbine for my Harlequin,” the blonde lisped.

Barbara nudged Ethel as the two moved toward them. “Look,” she whispered. “Do you know them?”

Ethel shook her head smilingly as they moved back to the curb on the edge of the human stream which flowed along the sidewalk.

“I never saw them before,” she whispered. “They wear their costumes well. Do you want to know them?”

“They look interesting,” Barbara whispered as they sauntered close. Her heart seemed strangely accelerated.

“I imagine they’ll be very interesting,” Ethel said aloud.

The Harlequin smiled as she heard the words. “My Columbine!” she exclaimed. She stepped close to Ethel and peered into her face. “I’ve been seeking you,” she proclaimed.

“Zounds and bloody fish hooks!” The pirate said as she seized Barbara’s arm. “A demure Quaker maid! Shall I take you captive?” She bowed low before her. “Before some nasty man beats me to it?” she added in a lower voice.

Barbara turned helplessly to Ethel and met her challenging smile. “Harlequin says they have a quiet apartment near,” Ethel told her. “Shall we get out of the crowd and rest a little?”

“With exotic wines to fire your pulse,” the pirate whispered to Barbara as she hesitated. “Or must I capture you and hold you against the world?” Her fingers tightened gently on Barbara’s arm.

“We’ll go if you like,” Ethel said eagerly to Barbara. “After all, we have a couple of hours to kill before our appointment... and I could stand to rest my feet a little.”

“So could I,” Barbara told her truthfully.

“Let’s go then.” Ethel smiled understandingly at the Harlequin and took her arm.

Barbara and the pirate followed them a few blocks down Rampart to the entrance of a modest apartment building. There was a stuffy lobby and a curving flight of stairs.

The pirate continued to squeeze Barbara’s arm and remain silent as they mounted the stairs behind Ethel and the Harlequin who kept up a low-toned conversation.

The Harlequin opened a door with a latchkey, and they were ushered into a cool and comfortable apartment.

The pirate released Barbara’s arm and patted her shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable, you adorable thing,” she breathed. “I’ll help Johnny get the wine.”

Barbara sank into a leather chair as the hostesses disappeared into another room. Ethel dropped to a couch and sighed with relief. She smiled obliquely at Barbara. “Mark it down to experience,” she said softly, to her unspoken question.

The Harlequin returned with a decanter of wine then, and Ethel had no opportunity to explain her cryptic remark.

“Frankie is taking off her mask and sash,” she said to Barbara. “Don’t be impatient... she’s wild about you.”

She set the decanter down and poured four glasses of wine while Barbara tried, vainly, to understand her words. On the surface it was merely a happily informal acquaintanceship formed under the laxity of the Mardi Gras spirit.

But she sensed a deeper mystery about the two girls. An indefinable something which seemed to set them apart from anyone she had ever known before. There was something more than a gay comradeship in their actions and speech.

She sipped her wine thoughtfully as she sought to analyze a queer emotion which gripped her. In one sense it was fear... though it really wasn’t fear. An emotion which tingled through her body and set her nerves on fire.

Johnny sat on the couch with Ethel. She had thrown aside her mask and her features were coarser than Barbara had expected them to be.

Then the pirate returned and drew a chair up close to hers. So close that their knees touched as she sat down with a glass of wine. Her mask had hidden high cheek bones and long eyelashes. Her lips were very full and a little smile lurked about them as she leaned forward.

“Take off your mask, honey,” she said softly. “I’ll bet the rest of your face is just as sweet as the sample I can see.”

“It’s tied at the back,” Barbara told her simply.

“Drink the rest of your wine, and I’ll untie it.”

Barbara drank the remainder of the wine and leaned her head forward.

The other’s fingers fumbled at the back of her head. “My name’s Frankie,” a husky voice said in her ear. The mask slipped loose and she felt Frankie’s full lips brush over her hair. “You’re adorable,” the husky voice said.

Barbara avoided looking at her. “The wine was very nice,” she said sedately.

“Let me get you some more.” Frankie arose quickly and refilled her glass. Barbara drank half of it before taking it from her lips. It was heavy and sweet. Slow fire seemed to creep through her veins as she lowered the glass.

She stole a glance at Ethel and was surprised to see that she and Johnny were sitting very close together on the couch. Their arms were thrown familiarly about each other’s shoulders, and they talked in low tones with snatches of covert laughter.

She blinked her eyes uncertainly as she watched them. Things were getting a bit hazy, and she wasn’t sure she was seeing everything as it was.

She drank the rest of the wine and smiled vaguely at Frankie. The erstwhile pirate was leaning forward eagerly, her black eyes shining with slumbrous passion.

“You... have an awfully nice place here,” Barbara essayed haltingly. She had never tasted wine before, and this second glass had made her voice sound thick.

“Do you like it?” Frankie asked eagerly. “Let me show you the rest of it.” Her eyes studied Barbara calculatingly as she arose to pour her a third glass of wine.

“I... I don’t think I should drink any more,” Barbara protested weakly. She stood up and swayed, holding tightly to the back of the chair. “I... I feel sort of funny now,” she confessed.

“Go ahead and drink it.” Frankie’s firm arm was comfortingly about her waist as she proffered the drink.

“Sure. Go ahead.” Ethel’s laughing voice came from the couch. “Suppose you do get a little tight? What’s the harm? Frankie and Johnny are perfect ladies.” She giggled and Johnny joined in with a deeper note of mirth.

“All right,” Barbara said recklessly. She drank the third glass of wine and dropped the empty goblet to the floor. “I... I want to drink of life... like that,” she said fiercely. “Drain its sweetness and fling the husk away!” Her voice rose shakily. It sounded like a very good speech.

“Atagirl,” Ethel applauded. “Don’t let ’em get you down, Babs.” She laughed uproariously at her own wit.

Frankie smiled at Barbara with genuine warmth. “Let me show you the rest of our apartment,” she urged. Her arm tightened tentatively about Barbara’s waist.

“All right. But don’t hold me so tight,” Barbara said querulously. “I’m all right. I can stan’ up.” She tugged at Frankie’s arm and pulled it from her waist.

Frankie smiled and caught her elbow as she staggered and almost fell. “Come on,” she said huskily, leading her from the room.

“This is the bedroom,” she said slowly. Barbara gazed wonderingly as the room seemed to swing about in circles. Her wavering gaze fell upon a huge bed and remained fixed there. She moved toward it uncertainly.

“Wanta lie down,” she muttered.

“Sure. Just relax and rest a little.” Frankie’s voice was low and persuasive. She helped Barbara reach the bed. “Just lie down,” she said tenderly. “You can stay here as long as you want to.”

Barbara relaxed gratefully on the bed. The wine seemed to have left her body in a state of suspended animation. Her limbs seemed disjointed... not a part of her at all. She closed her eyes as Frankie leaned over her.

“You sweet kid. You’re so darned cute in that costume I don’t see how I can keep my hands off you.” Frankie’s voice was hoarse. She leaned down to let her lips caress the base of Barbara’s neck.

Barbara moved restlessly and pushed Frankie’s face away. She wondered, feebly, what sort of game this was. She was vaguely irritated by Frankie’s sentimentality.

“Go ’way,” she muttered. “I don’t know you very well.”

“Don’t push me away, honey. You’ll break my heart,” Frankie breathed passionately.

Barbara cocked one eye open at her to see if she could discover what she meant, but it was too much effort. The lash insisted on dropping back to cut off her view.

“You must be awfully hot in this costume,” Frankie said softly. “Don’t you just want me to take it off so you can be comfortable?” Her fingers moved caressingly on Barbara’s body.

“No. Le’ me ’lone,” Barbara muttered crossly.

“At least I’ll lift up the skirt so it’ll be cooler.” Frankie’s breath was coming faster. Her hands slid downward on Barbara’s limbs and drew the skirt up.

It was cooler. Frankie was very considerate, Barbara thought vaguely. A very kind hostess.

“What yuh rubbin’ my knee for?” she asked thickly. “Noshing matter with my knee.”

“It’s a sweet knee.” Frankie’s voice was muffled and seemed to come from far away. “It’s got the cutest little dimple... just darling.”

Barbara was uneasily conscious that Frankie was acting very strangely. Her fingertips played lightly along her bared limb, and there was a moist warmth on her knee that felt suspiciously like a soft kiss.

She lay quietly and sought to analyze these matters. But it was all too much trouble. A great lassitude gripped her. It didn’t really matter, she supposed. Probably it was all a part of the Mardi Gras madness. She had never before met a hostess who took such an intimate interest in her body before... but... perhaps that was the conventional thing in New Orleans.

The world faded to blackness under Frankie’s soothing touch.

She awoke slowly, very slowly. For minutes she grappled with the dividing line between consciousness and oblivion. She dreamed, and the remnants of her dream clung to her in awaking.

She had dreamed of Robert, of passion. Of a new Robert who felt the call of desire as she had felt it. A Robert who came to her unashamed to caress her body with tender fingers and soft lips.

The dream persisted as she drifted back to knowingness. Persisted and became reality.

She opened her eyes wildly as her soul burst into splendid flame. She cried aloud as the dream vanished and she stared uncomprehendingly at Frankie.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, kicking at her furiously. Frankie threw her arms about the awakened girl and sought to embrace her again.

“You must be crazy!” Barbara cried. She tore away from her and ran into the other room. Ethel jumped up from the couch as Barbara hurried to the outer door.

“What on earth’s the matter?” she asked as she caught her on the stairs and halted her mad flight.

“That girl!” Barbara gasped. “She... she must have been drunk!”

“Oh my God in heaven!” Ethel threw back her head and laughed gleefully. “What’d she try to do?” she asked in the midst of her merriment.

“Something I don’t want to talk about,” Barbara responded indignantly.

“Why didn’t you slap her on the wrist?” Ethel asked merrily.

“Well, it’s nothing to joke about,” Barbara said doggedly. “You don’t know how she acted or you wouldn’t laugh.”

“Come on, you innocent dumbbell,” Ethel chuckled. “We’re late for our engagement with Frank.”

Barbara set her lips stubbornly as Ethel continued to laugh. She could tell her what sort of girls they were, she thought darkly, and then she’d bet Ethel wouldn’t laugh. But she kept silence because she didn’t know how to relate her experience.