It's winter in the French Quarter, the cold clears the streets early but the magic of the quarter weaves a seductive spell. The stench is not so bad because the crisp cool breezes take the smells far away. Madeleine and John have been out dancing and drinking and having fun. There is nothing more fun than being in the quarter where the bars never close and no one ever says, "Last Call." Time slips away. They have stayed up well past their normal bed time and only the whores and thieves are still walking the streets. Hand in hand they walk down Bourbon to Canal. The street car only runs once an hour at this time, but there is not a line because most people have already gone home on the 3 o'clock car.
Tiredly, Madeleine leans against John waiting for the street car. He snuggles her close. When it finally arrives, she is grateful. Climbing aboard, Madeleine goes to sit in the front seats, but John places a hand on the small of her back, guiding her slightly down, all the way to the back seats. No one else is sitting anywhere near them. A young waitress leans her head tiredly against the window, closing her eyes and burying her face down further in her coat. The conductor has the curtain pulled across his seat so that he can see the tracks better, cutting out the light; but unless there is noise or a problem, he doesn't care who is in the back of the car.
Madeleine lays her head on John's shoulder. His hand rests lightly on her thigh. The gentle rocking motion of the street car makes her even drowsier. Suddenly, she realizes that John's hand is no longer on her thigh. Her skirt is pulled up almost to her waist and John's hand is playing with her pubic hairs. Madeleine no longer wears underwear, John finds it an annoyance and it is not to be tolerated.
She goes to stop him, embarrassed. John tells her to sit still. "Don't say a word, put your head back on my shoulder." He continues to explore and dips a long lazy finger down lower. A strangled moan comes out escapes her parted lips. He hisses at her to be quiet. A warning pinch of her labia makes Madeleine aware that she is not to say or do anything that would make anyone realize what he is doing.
With each rock of the streetcar, he exerts a little pressure. Back and forth, rocking and moving his fingers in time with the soft clack of the street car wheels. Warm juices begin to flow over John's hand. She is dripping and aching to be fulfilled. Madeleine keeps her eyes closed pretending that if she cannot see them, then people will not know what is happening. The street car stops to let others on, John stills his hand, but does not remove it.
As the street car begins to move again, John plays, bringing her almost to a peak each time and stopping as the street car stops. Soon they are within a few blocks of the hotel. She whispers that it is time to get off. He smiles and says, "It certainly is!" and she explodes.
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