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.
Chapter Seven
Frank and Joe were waiting impatiently for them in front of the St. Charles Hotel. There were two other couples with them, and Frank mumbled their names to Barbara as she shook hands with them all.
One of the girls was a tiny slip of a thing, coming only to Barbara’s shoulder, with a defiantly snub nose and delightfully blue eyes. It seemed that her name was Trixie, and it was evident that she was very much in love with a tall man, slender almost to the point of emaciation, with deep-set, glittering eyes and a bony, hooked nose. Barbara laughed aloud when Frank introduced him under the name of Tiny.
He wore a devil’s costume, and he frowned portentously at Barbara as she laughed. “They call me Tiny,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ve always had an idea they do it to kid me. What do you think?”
“I think that you and Trixie should have a private telephone line arranged to talk over,” Barbara laughed. “Seems to me she’d wear her voice out trying to communicate with you over that vast distance.”
“That’s an idea,” he told her gravely. “But suppose someone should tap the wire?”
Frank drew her aside just then to introduce her to the other couple. Jenny and Carl Lind. Barbara noted there was no wedding ring on Jenny’s plump hand, but she determined quickly that she mustn’t notice such things as missing wedding rings.
Jenny and Carl were older than the others. Barbara thought Jenny was thirty, and Carl seemed much older. His gray hair was thin at the temples, and the skin on his brow was tight and yellowed. But his cheeks were ruddy, and his full lips had an unnatural flush. His hand was moistly warm as he squeezed Barbara’s fingers an unnecessarily long time, and his protuberant eyes flickered hopefully as they traveled boldly down the length of her body.
Barbara disliked Carl at once, and she was glad when he released her hand to let her speak to Jenny.
“I’m awfully glad to meet you.” Jenny’s voice was flowing and warm. She sounded sincere. “Frank’s been raving about you for the past hour,” she went on in a lowered voice. “He’s said so much that I think he’s put ideas in Carl’s head.”
Barbara laughed nervously. Jenny was full-breasted and buxom. “Suppose I trust you to take care of any ideas Carl gets?” Barbara suggested in a voice so low that only Jenny heard her.
A long glance of understanding passed between them. Barbara knew she had found a friend. Jenny’s look told her that Carl was easily taken in by a pretty face and an alluring figure, and it asked Barbara to keep him at arm’s length. A compact was created between them with that single glance.
Jenny smiled impulsively and patted her shoulder. “Okay,” she said lightly. “I’ll do my part if you’ll do yours. But...” She hesitated and glanced about to see that none overheard. “... don’t trust Carl in a dark corner... especially after he’s had a couple of highballs.”
“I’ll positively shun all dark corners,” Barbara told her laughingly.
There was no opportunity for further conversation just then. They were surrounded by the others as they moved toward two cars at the curb. It seemed that they were all going to Frank’s house where they would be joined by others during the course of the evening.
Barbara found herself in the front seat of Frank’s car, with Trixie and Tiny in the back seat. The other two couples followed in Carl Lind’s automobile. She leaned back against the seat and smiled quickly at Frank as he drove away into the stream of traffic.
“You look tired,” he commented. “Have you and Ethel been trying to take in all of Mardi Gras in a few hours?”
“Something like that,” she admitted with a sigh. “I was lifted to the heights all morning... now a sort of reaction has set in. I feel funny inside.”
“Too much excitement in one day,” Frank told her firmly. “You need to rest and relax. You can do that when we get home,” he went on quietly. “I’ll bundle you into bed in a dark room where you can rest and forget Mardi Gras for a few hours.”
“Be careful, child,” Trixie gurgled from the back seat. “Frank’s beds in dark rooms have a certain reputation. I warn you that you’re not likely to get much rest.”
“Be careful,” Frank warned her laughingly. “Tiny’s likely to get ideas if you betray too intimate a knowledge of my beds and what goes on there.”