Page 4 of More Than A Feeling

I'd never expected to be attracted to Fleur, though—but it happened and was like a sledgehammer in my gut.

It was after Mardi Gras when I was with some clients at Maison on Frenchmen's Street, and Fleur was there as well. She was friends with the drummer of the jazz band playing that night.

I hadn't seen her for a long while, and the woman in front of me looked nothing like a tomboy.

Fleur wasn't tall like Sabine, who was five feet nine inches and model beautiful.

Fleur was around five feet four or five. Not petite; not tall. She had a woman's body—clearly visible in the long black dress she wore that covered literally every inch of her. The dress cupped her body, and when I saw her ass, I felt my cock twitch. That ass was made for fucking!

She wore boots underneath the dress. The femininity of the outfit and the ruggedness of her footwear contrasted drastically—emphasizing her layered personality.

Once my clients left, I went and sat at the bar next to her. We'd seen each other earlier and waved to one another. She hadn't come by the table, and I hadn't sought her out either. But now, I felt drawn.

"How are you?" I asked after telling the bartender I'd have a shot of Jameson, neat.

"Good." She had a bright and broad smile. Her face was not sophisticated like Sabine's. It was happy. Her cheeks were rosy pink and healthy. Her lips were glossy and bright. Her eyes were light brown with dark centers. Her dark hair hung loose in curls around her shoulders—it wasn't styled, just naturally lush. She looked fucking fantastic.

Sabine's hair was always coiffed. It wasn't curly like Fleur's, or maybe it was, and she took care of it. Their eyes were different as well. Fleur's were like her mother's, while Sabine'swere blue like her father's. Sabine's skin was pale, milky white, while Fleur looked like she got some sun.

"You come here a lot?" I made small talk because she didn't seem interested in speaking with me and was more into the fucking drummer with two arms full of tattoos. That was probably her type. Shaggy musician with tats.

She looked surprised that I was having a conversation with her. "Yes. I know the band. Jamie, he's playing the drums—he and I were at Tulane together."

"Ah." Fucking Jamie!

"The guy on the guitar is his boyfriend," she continued artlessly; "And Sheena is on drums. Isn't she spectacular? She also plays with the Trumpet Mafia at Frenchmen's Hotel."

"Jamie is gay?" I asked, wanting to be precise because I'd had just enough to drink to want to make a play at Fleur Landry, my dead brother's sister-in-law.

She chuckled. "I don't know. He's had boyfriends and girlfriends. I think he might be pan. I've never asked."

"Have you fucked him?"

She looked as shocked as I felt by my question.

"That's inappropriate, Callum," she said softly and stood up, ready to leave me to my surliness.

I wasn't going to apologize. I wanted to know because I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to peel off that dress, with its long sleeves and high neck that reached all the way to her ankles, and see what was beneath it.

She probably thought she was hiding her body, or maybe not because it molded her tits, a nice C+ I was sure, and her ass, which, as I noted before, was made for tapping.

"Let me rephrase, are you single, Fleur?"

Her eyes went wide. "Yes," she whispered.

I smiled at her. "Then why don't you sit back down and let me buy you a drink?"

And that's how it began.

I had her in my bed that night.

My head blew off.

Best sex of my fucking life.

Fleur was sensual, generous, and knew how to give and take. Hell, I'd never imagined her to be so bold and demanding in bed. It was a complete turn-on. She wasn't just handing control over to me—as much as I liked that, I liked it better when my partner was asking me to fuck them hard.

We continued to see each other, primarily for sex—because it was spectacular. But after a few months, I wanted more, so I told Brian, Lenora, and Sabine that Fleur and I were dating. They were all surprised and warned me that Fleur wasn't really my type. I knew that. But we were having fun. It was casual. I could, as the song went,make Miss Wrong, Right for a few months.

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