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Today is Mardi Gras y'all. Celebrate all things New Orleans and take a look at my erotic and atmospheric romance that takes place there in current times and also in the heyday of Storyville, a New Orleans' 19th century brothel district where our heroine falls in love with an alluring piano player who bears a striking resemblance to Jelly Roll Morton.
Here’s an excerpt:
I asked the sexy Creole young man, “Where are you taking me?"
We’re going to Storyville. That’s where I live.”
“Storyville? You mean the famous red-light district?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve read about it. Storyville doesn’t exist anymore. Are we going back in time?”
“Yes. Back to 1899.”
“Wow! This is weird, but exciting, too.” I couldn’t believe it. “Wow!” I said again.
“I hope you like it.”
“What do you do there in Storyville?”
“I play piano in some of the brothels.”
“Wow! That’s where Louis Armstrong and Jelly Roll Morton got their start!”
“You know about them?”
“Yeah. My grandfather likes jazz.”
“If you like jazz, you’ve come to the right place.”
I could hear music playing in the distance. Before he opened the door, he said, “Are you ready to go back to 1899 with me?”
“Sure. I’d follow you anywhere.”
He opened the door, and we went down some stairs. He opened another door and I saw a barely recognizable Basin Street. Back then, it had railroad tracks running down the middle of the street. People were scurrying about wearing Victorian-era clothing. There were two-storied stately mansions, some adorned with turrets and cupolas, lining the street. Some of the houses had naked women hanging out of the upper floor windows trying to tempt the men on the street to come inside and join them. There were saloons and gambling parlors.
He said, “We’re going to the Mahogany House.”
“Okay,” I answered, ready for anything.
“Have you ever heard of Lulu White?”
“No. Who is she?”
“She runs this place,” he said as we walked up to the door of a large mansion. “It’s a lot nicer than some of the brothels down here. It even has a marble staircase and two parlors.”
He opened a door and I saw half-dressed women sitting in a parlor talking to men. A pianist in the corner was playing ragtime music.
He led me up the marble staircase and we came to a room. I didn’t know what surprises he had in store for me next. It was all so thrilling!
We entered a very plush bedroom filled with antiques. It had a large crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. At first, I didn’t notice her: I was too busy looking at him and the dazzling interior. Then, I saw her—a red-headed young woman sitting up in a four-poster bed. She was wearing a dressing gown that barely covered her large breasts. I looked at him with fire in my eyes and said, “What’s this all about?! Why are we here?”
He told me, “I wanted you to meet Lily, my wife.”
“Your wife!” I shouted. “You never told me you were married!” I was about ready to murder him.
Defensively, he answered, “I do have a past, you know. I don’t exist in a vacuum. I’ve known Lily since I was a child. We grew up together.”
“Is she a prostitute?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re never jealous about her having sex with other men?”
“It’s all we’ve ever known. We have an understanding.”
With building anger, I shoved his chest and yelled, “I want to go home. I don’t like you anymore.”
He gripped my hands, trying to get me to stay. I was surprised when he said, “Don’t be jealous. I’m not going to be having sex with her. You are.”
He winked at me. I told myself, now I get it. He wants to watch. Well, I’ll put on quite a show, if that’s what he desires.
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Do you want to read more? This erotic story is available at Amazon, Apple, Barnes and Noble, Google Play, Kobo and Smashwords.
Here's the Amazon link:
https://www.amazon.com/Storyville-Time-Travel-Romance-Maggie-May-ebook/dp/B01LWLZ3AK
