Title: Goth Passion in New Orleans Part I
Author: Kael
Keywords: MF, cons, rough, nosex

                Comments may be sent to kaelsmith12@yahoo.com

Marlowe turned into the doorway she was standing in, cupped a hand to her cigarette, and lit it before turning back around.  She leaned back against the gritty brick wall and looked around.  It had been windy all day, and a few moments before, large, heavy raindrops had finally begun falling from the overcast sky.  She'd known the shops and cafes along Decatur street would fill quickly with tourists and other pedestrians, so she had turned down a side street and taken shelter in the unused side entrance of an old building that housed three or four different shops hawking t-shirts, postcards, and magnets all emblazoned with fleur de lis and references to Bourbon street to drunk tourists.  

Marlowe took a drag of her cigarette and studied her reflection in a car window across the street.  Her long, thick blonde hair hung nearly to her waist.  It fell forward and veiled her blue eyes, and pale, high-cheekboned face.  It had darkened and curled a little in the rain.  She watched her reflection exhale a breath of smoke from full, coral lips.  She was petite for her 18 years, only 5' and 102 lbs, but she had good proportions.  Soft, well-shaped, 34B breasts were followed by a small waist, and small, round ass.  Today she wore a beat up pair of green converse that she'd had for the past three years, black cargo pants, an over-sized black hoodie, and a loose black t-shirt with her favorite quote printed on it in pale yellow.  "There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night," by Albert Camus.  She wrapped the hoodie around herself tightly, and held it against her body with her arm across her waist as she shivered in the cool air brought in by the rain.  Marlowe inhaled from her cigarette again, enjoying the raw burning sensation in the back of her throat as she breathed in the smoke deeply.  She exhaled and watched the smoke drift up towards the slate sky.  When she looked back down, there was a boy across the street.  He looked her age, maybe a few years older.  He had pale skin, grey eyes, and shoulder-length brown hair so dark it seemed black.  He wore black cargo pants like hers, black combat boots, and a black Burzum t-shirt, speckled by raindrops.  She could feel him studying her, and she looked back at him unafraid.  He crossed the street and stepped up into the doorway next to her.  He took out his own pack of cigarettes, lit one, inhaled, and blew the smoke out towards the street.  He turned to face her, and she turned too.  They both smiled at each other, and Marlowe broke the silence.  "It's raining," she said.

"Yes," the boy replied, still smiling.  He hooked two of his long, pale fingers into her collar, pulled her towards him, and leaned down to kiss her, pressing his lips against hers.  She moaned, surprised but kissed him back.  He tossed away his cigarette and wrapped his left arm around her waist, holding her against him.  She could feel his warm strength holding her tightly.  He wrapped his right hand through her hair and tugged her head back, exposing her neck.  She shivered as he bent his head down further, bit the side of her neck, sent a sharp pain through her.  She stood up on tiptoes, bit the spot between his neck and shoulder, felt her teeth come close to piercing his warm, smooth skin.  He yanked on her hair again, and she moaned, bit him harder farther up his neck.  He turned, slammed her back against the wall, sending a jolt through her body.  He pulled her hair, nibbled on her earlobe, then bit her shoulder hard and she moaned louder, pressing herself against him.  They kissed again, setting her whole body tingling, full of heat.  She parted her lips, and his tongue pushed into her mouth, playing with hers.  His right hand released her hair, stroked it softly, then ran under her shirt.  His warm hand ran up her side, thumb brushing over her bellybutton, and squeezed her breast hard through her bra.  She could feel the bulge of his cock pressing into her, and she pushed against it desperately.  He squeezed her breast harder, kissed her again, then pulled away.  She stayed pressed against him, looked up into his shining grey eyes, and bit his chest playfully.  He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head.

"We need to go somewhere," he said, and Marlowe nodded.  "I'm Zacharias, or Z."

"Marlowe," she replied.

"Cool," he said, and smiled.  

She pulled out her cigarettes and lit one, hands shaking.  She held the pack out to Z.  "Need one?" she asked.

He chuckled and nodded, "Definitely."  They both stood smoking.  She leaned back against him, her head resting on his chest, three or four inches below his chin, and his arm draped over one of her shoulder.  They finished their cigarettes and then stepped out into the rain, a steady drizzle now, to go look for somewhere.