It was four in the morning before the music stopped. The blaring trumpets came to rest first. The low brassy tones of stringed instruments plucking away pleasant melodies halted their thrumming next. The guitars, drums, and whistles simmered down, replaced by the long, out of tune shrillness of a lone harmonica. That too quieted, and all was quiet on the main boulevard of the streets of the "Big Easy" as New Orleans, Louisiana was known to it's crowd of late night revelers.
Michelle grinned and gripped the dozens of plastic beads around her neck, a souvenir of her long wild night. She wore them proudly, displaying them to her two inebriated friends, Tiff and Chloe.
"Look at this stack!" Michelle exclaimed, her voice carrying far down the quieting streets. Her friend Tiff rolled her eyes and examined Michelle in the glow of streetlights and strung up lanterns. Michelle had always been the pretty one, long blond hair, a gorgeous smile, and a short but deliciously curved body. She wore no bra under her purple shirt, and her perky breasts heaved against the fabric. Her wide hips were barely contained in tight blue jeans.
Michelle flexed her chest out and stood on her bare feet in tip toes, popping the bright strings of beads closer to Tiff's line of sight. "See! Winner, winner!" Michelle bragged. Tiff smiled but didn't retreat. She looked down at her meager haul, a half dozen beads in total, far less, and some she only got some snatching ones away from Michelle. She glanced a bit upward, looking at Michelle's haul, she alabaster white cleavage beneath, and thought wicked thoughts of grabbing the beads, then grabbing her friend's chest with both hands.
Such things were interrupted by Chloe. The tallest of the three, Chloe was slim and athletic and wore tall heels to make her tower over her two friends. She was cute in a bob cut of brown hair and modest non revealing clothes. She wore a few plastic beads as well, but not half as many as Michelle.
"This party is over!" Chloe said, louder than she would have liked. Quieter, she added, "Let's head back to the room, I've got to rest up for another big day tomorrow with my besties!" She smiled and all three women laughed and headed down the street.
New Orleans is a city of a rich history. It is visited by many tourists, especially in the spring for Mardi Gras, and it's residents usually stay far away from the raucous parties. In a strange and bizarre turn of events leading up to their meeting, it was very uncharacteristic of one resident, Boll Weevil to be out this late. But being a witch doctor causes one to live an eccentric life.
It just so happened then, Michelle and her two friends made their way down ancient clumsy alleys, byways, and passthroughs on the way back to their lodgings. In one such dimly lit corridor, Boll Weevil stooped to gather what he might describe, translated from Creole, as winning of the lottery of spellcasting magic. Just what, or who, Boll had found isn't much concern to our tale, just that he stooped nearly to a squat about to gather his precious treasure when Michelle accidentally bumped into him.
Boll stumbled, let go of his prize, which dematerialized in a blink as he tumbled with no power to stop it. Michelle had crashed him headlong into a pile of cardboard boxes and litter. The two, in a jumble in the dark struggled to separate. Boll was up first, angrily voicing his concerns of rudeness and lack of common courtesy in today's youth. His tone was harsh, considering his non-lost wonder, but unintelligible.
Michelle stood next. She didn't understand Creole and tried to apologize, but her friends pulled her away. She left, barefoot, and confused, pulled toward the opposite end of the alleyway by Chloe and Tiff. Boll continued to rant, looked around, and when looking up didn't see the three women at all. Feeling cursed, the little witch doctor flew into a tantrum until he spied.. ah! A lock of Michelle's hair had caught on some debris in the alley. Grabbing the hair, the little man grinned and schemed the best way to take revenge on a absent minded tourist...
Michelle awoke at noon. Her head pounded and the light from the bedroom windows was blinding. She had stripped to nearly nothing, just a pair of soft black cotton underwear. Her feet were black from walking around barefoot the night before. She lay mostly uncovered in her private room, with blankets and sheets twisted around her. On a nearby chair, she noticed her crumpled pants, shirt, and pile of beads. She smiled at her great pile of beads.
She kept smiling. She felt a bit strange all of a sudden. Like her whole body was covered in silk. Smooth, but rippling. Not the sheets, she hadn't stirred. The feeling vanished. Something else. Her left ear felt like it had been touched by a soft brush. She smiled at the odd sensation, but raised a hand to feel. Nothing was there.
Another brush, this time on her right side just under her chin. She jumped and craned her neck, only to have the brushing sensation appear back on her left ear. Startled, she swung her head back to the left, only have her chin tickled even more. She laughed and squirmed at the touches went back and forth forty times or more. Each time she whipped and turned her head, each time the touches brushed by with nothing touching her at all. Was she losing her mind?
She laughed, once, a small short unprompted burst. Completely unintentional, the touches seemed to speed up. The left side, launched downwards, sweeping her chin, neck, and lips. On the right side, her ear, neck, and parts of her should felt as if fingers danced upon her bare skin. She grinned all the while worrying she was descending into madness! What was going on! The touches intensified, waggling, invisible fingers found spots around her chin, neck, head, and shoulder she didn't knew were so sensitive.
"Tiff! Chloe!" Michelle called out for help between gouts of laughter. No answer came, her two companions had snuck out quietly an hour prior to get lunch and supplies. They left a note they would return in a few hours.
Michelle felt fingers on her shoulders, moving in semicircular patterns towards her elbows. She kept her arms tucked tight to her sides. Her armpits were always ticklish, if they found a way in, she wouldn't be able to control herself. The swirling patterns changed to long sweeping motions, running the length of both her arms up and down, dancing along her hands, palms, wrists, elbows, and in between. She rolled to her right side, propping herself on her hand, trying to get out of bed, trying to get away!
She made a mistake. Now her armpit was exposed, and five invisible wiggling fingers found her weak spot. She laughed and lost all power, losing control of her arms and bursting into fits of near breathless chuckling. She couldn't keep her armpits clear, and once one was open, the other receded and that too was attacked by the unseen force. She rolled and squirmed to and fro, rolling on her back. She bucked wildly, mouth open, eyes closed, only laughter escaping her lips.
Her large breasts jiggled and down. Her nipples became erect, sensually moving on top of her bountiful bosom. Sensing an opening, the force moved to her ribs. Teasing around her bare chest, the sensation changed to feel like long strokes of feathers, swinging back and forth along her sides. The armpits were still touched, but so too were her ribs, sides, and parts of her stomach. She tried to wiggle free to no avail. She rolled onto her stomach to get relief, both hands no gripping her sides to try to protect them.
The feather touches continued, unhindered, along her back. One feather-light stoke painted vertical stripes along her delicate back and spine. The other, wove patterns and drew swirling, swooshing symbols along her shoulders, arms, and sides, then around the lowest part of her back. Above her hips, both patterns changed to play and tease the delicate skin in stripes back and forth.
Michelle flipped again, onto her back. She couldn't take much more. Her throat was sore, and tears ran down both of her now red, blushing cheeks. The sensations had stopped for now. She gulped some air, gripped the bed sheets around her with clawed hands, and slowed her breathing. She opened her eyes. No one else was in the room. Absolutely no one. She looked around, seeing nothing, only the now bare bed after she had kicked off the blankets and pillows. What a mess. She smiled and sat up. Still a bit shaken, she figured she had been under some kind of spell for at last 20 minutes, maybe more. She looked around, sank back down into the bed and laughed. What a strange vacation!
Across town, Boll Weevil put away his totem. It was a roughly sewn doll of burlap, with a small patch of blonde hair sewn in. Vaugely human shaped, it was more than enough to allow his impish magic to cause the desired effect. Of course, in the old days, he reminisced, voodoo was all pain and needles. But where was the fun in that? You had to make your own fun in Louisiana, and what better way than to make a little more joy in the world. He gently placed the doll into a cabinet on top a soft silk cushion, along with the brushes and feathers he had been using. He dampened the magic, but did not dispel it for now. He smiled. Yes, maybe time for more of that a bit later tonight!
- THE END -
Michelle grinned and gripped the dozens of plastic beads around her neck, a souvenir of her long wild night. She wore them proudly, displaying them to her two inebriated friends, Tiff and Chloe.
"Look at this stack!" Michelle exclaimed, her voice carrying far down the quieting streets. Her friend Tiff rolled her eyes and examined Michelle in the glow of streetlights and strung up lanterns. Michelle had always been the pretty one, long blond hair, a gorgeous smile, and a short but deliciously curved body. She wore no bra under her purple shirt, and her perky breasts heaved against the fabric. Her wide hips were barely contained in tight blue jeans.
Michelle flexed her chest out and stood on her bare feet in tip toes, popping the bright strings of beads closer to Tiff's line of sight. "See! Winner, winner!" Michelle bragged. Tiff smiled but didn't retreat. She looked down at her meager haul, a half dozen beads in total, far less, and some she only got some snatching ones away from Michelle. She glanced a bit upward, looking at Michelle's haul, she alabaster white cleavage beneath, and thought wicked thoughts of grabbing the beads, then grabbing her friend's chest with both hands.
Such things were interrupted by Chloe. The tallest of the three, Chloe was slim and athletic and wore tall heels to make her tower over her two friends. She was cute in a bob cut of brown hair and modest non revealing clothes. She wore a few plastic beads as well, but not half as many as Michelle.
"This party is over!" Chloe said, louder than she would have liked. Quieter, she added, "Let's head back to the room, I've got to rest up for another big day tomorrow with my besties!" She smiled and all three women laughed and headed down the street.
New Orleans is a city of a rich history. It is visited by many tourists, especially in the spring for Mardi Gras, and it's residents usually stay far away from the raucous parties. In a strange and bizarre turn of events leading up to their meeting, it was very uncharacteristic of one resident, Boll Weevil to be out this late. But being a witch doctor causes one to live an eccentric life.
It just so happened then, Michelle and her two friends made their way down ancient clumsy alleys, byways, and passthroughs on the way back to their lodgings. In one such dimly lit corridor, Boll Weevil stooped to gather what he might describe, translated from Creole, as winning of the lottery of spellcasting magic. Just what, or who, Boll had found isn't much concern to our tale, just that he stooped nearly to a squat about to gather his precious treasure when Michelle accidentally bumped into him.
Boll stumbled, let go of his prize, which dematerialized in a blink as he tumbled with no power to stop it. Michelle had crashed him headlong into a pile of cardboard boxes and litter. The two, in a jumble in the dark struggled to separate. Boll was up first, angrily voicing his concerns of rudeness and lack of common courtesy in today's youth. His tone was harsh, considering his non-lost wonder, but unintelligible.
Michelle stood next. She didn't understand Creole and tried to apologize, but her friends pulled her away. She left, barefoot, and confused, pulled toward the opposite end of the alleyway by Chloe and Tiff. Boll continued to rant, looked around, and when looking up didn't see the three women at all. Feeling cursed, the little witch doctor flew into a tantrum until he spied.. ah! A lock of Michelle's hair had caught on some debris in the alley. Grabbing the hair, the little man grinned and schemed the best way to take revenge on a absent minded tourist...
Michelle awoke at noon. Her head pounded and the light from the bedroom windows was blinding. She had stripped to nearly nothing, just a pair of soft black cotton underwear. Her feet were black from walking around barefoot the night before. She lay mostly uncovered in her private room, with blankets and sheets twisted around her. On a nearby chair, she noticed her crumpled pants, shirt, and pile of beads. She smiled at her great pile of beads.
She kept smiling. She felt a bit strange all of a sudden. Like her whole body was covered in silk. Smooth, but rippling. Not the sheets, she hadn't stirred. The feeling vanished. Something else. Her left ear felt like it had been touched by a soft brush. She smiled at the odd sensation, but raised a hand to feel. Nothing was there.
Another brush, this time on her right side just under her chin. She jumped and craned her neck, only to have the brushing sensation appear back on her left ear. Startled, she swung her head back to the left, only have her chin tickled even more. She laughed and squirmed at the touches went back and forth forty times or more. Each time she whipped and turned her head, each time the touches brushed by with nothing touching her at all. Was she losing her mind?
She laughed, once, a small short unprompted burst. Completely unintentional, the touches seemed to speed up. The left side, launched downwards, sweeping her chin, neck, and lips. On the right side, her ear, neck, and parts of her should felt as if fingers danced upon her bare skin. She grinned all the while worrying she was descending into madness! What was going on! The touches intensified, waggling, invisible fingers found spots around her chin, neck, head, and shoulder she didn't knew were so sensitive.
"Tiff! Chloe!" Michelle called out for help between gouts of laughter. No answer came, her two companions had snuck out quietly an hour prior to get lunch and supplies. They left a note they would return in a few hours.
Michelle felt fingers on her shoulders, moving in semicircular patterns towards her elbows. She kept her arms tucked tight to her sides. Her armpits were always ticklish, if they found a way in, she wouldn't be able to control herself. The swirling patterns changed to long sweeping motions, running the length of both her arms up and down, dancing along her hands, palms, wrists, elbows, and in between. She rolled to her right side, propping herself on her hand, trying to get out of bed, trying to get away!
She made a mistake. Now her armpit was exposed, and five invisible wiggling fingers found her weak spot. She laughed and lost all power, losing control of her arms and bursting into fits of near breathless chuckling. She couldn't keep her armpits clear, and once one was open, the other receded and that too was attacked by the unseen force. She rolled and squirmed to and fro, rolling on her back. She bucked wildly, mouth open, eyes closed, only laughter escaping her lips.
Her large breasts jiggled and down. Her nipples became erect, sensually moving on top of her bountiful bosom. Sensing an opening, the force moved to her ribs. Teasing around her bare chest, the sensation changed to feel like long strokes of feathers, swinging back and forth along her sides. The armpits were still touched, but so too were her ribs, sides, and parts of her stomach. She tried to wiggle free to no avail. She rolled onto her stomach to get relief, both hands no gripping her sides to try to protect them.
The feather touches continued, unhindered, along her back. One feather-light stoke painted vertical stripes along her delicate back and spine. The other, wove patterns and drew swirling, swooshing symbols along her shoulders, arms, and sides, then around the lowest part of her back. Above her hips, both patterns changed to play and tease the delicate skin in stripes back and forth.
Michelle flipped again, onto her back. She couldn't take much more. Her throat was sore, and tears ran down both of her now red, blushing cheeks. The sensations had stopped for now. She gulped some air, gripped the bed sheets around her with clawed hands, and slowed her breathing. She opened her eyes. No one else was in the room. Absolutely no one. She looked around, seeing nothing, only the now bare bed after she had kicked off the blankets and pillows. What a mess. She smiled and sat up. Still a bit shaken, she figured she had been under some kind of spell for at last 20 minutes, maybe more. She looked around, sank back down into the bed and laughed. What a strange vacation!
Across town, Boll Weevil put away his totem. It was a roughly sewn doll of burlap, with a small patch of blonde hair sewn in. Vaugely human shaped, it was more than enough to allow his impish magic to cause the desired effect. Of course, in the old days, he reminisced, voodoo was all pain and needles. But where was the fun in that? You had to make your own fun in Louisiana, and what better way than to make a little more joy in the world. He gently placed the doll into a cabinet on top a soft silk cushion, along with the brushes and feathers he had been using. He dampened the magic, but did not dispel it for now. He smiled. Yes, maybe time for more of that a bit later tonight!
- THE END -
