Thierry's Angel

2

            Thierry hadn't wanted to go out with his cousins tonight, especially not to some strip club in Lafitte, no matter how exclusive. It wasn't like there weren't strip clubs in New Orleans. They could have even gone into Baton Rouge if Remy, whose brilliant idea this outing was, hadn't wanted to stay in town. His cousin had sworn this place, the Kat's Meow of all ridiculous names, was the place to be for the men of wealth and power all over Louisiana and beyond. Of course, Thierry had already known that. He was a member, after all. Not that he would ever admit it to any of his cousins. The place was much more than a strip club, but he was unsure if Remy knew that. Thierry had grown somewhat degenerate in his pleasures of late. He tried any and everything to still the burning hunger inside of him. The insatiable need for something he could never have. At the club it was easy to find watered down copies of his true obsession, and it would do for now. God only knew how long that would last.

So he had agreed to go, seeing as how he had nothing better to do on a Friday night. That was, unless he wanted to let his veritable dragon of a grandmother drag him to some social function or another, where she would no doubt try to not so subtly push him towards some hopeful former debutante. At thirty-five, he was a little old for an actual deb.

Before Remy called, he had planned on being comfortably ensconced with his mistress in his newly purchased and renovated play cottage on Pauger Street in the famous Faubourg Marigny neighborhood in the heart of New Orleans. It was perhaps perverse to buy a place where he could explore every aspect of his growing sexual deviancy where octoroon and quadroon placées were kept by their patrons before the Louisiana Purchase. The English saw them as little more than "colored mistresses," but they were more than lovers; they were second wives, best friends and so much more to some men. These dynamic women were an intrinsic part of the history of the city and the state. They were, in reality, the foremothers of Louisiana.

He supposed that's why he just couldn't stomach actually bringing his now ex-mistress Marsha into the delightful cottage. True, he hadn't exactly planned on giving her walking papers just yet. She was a blonde, voluptuous garden of sensual delight, which he had truly enjoyed exploring. However, looking into those baby blues that sparkled with greed and schemes more than any lust he might have inspired, he knew there was no way in hell he could share his love nest with her. Its cheerful yellow exterior with light blue trim, lush and colorful courtyard garden with a small kidney shaped pool, elegant mahogany accented interior complete with a harem inspired bedroom, gourmet kitchen, and even a formal receiving parlor demanded a real lady. Somehow he hadn't created the sexual playhouse he had intended. This was a home, one in which he would share more than just a sexual relationship. Thierry realized with a healthy dose of despair that he strove to make every aspect of his remodeled cottage just right for one woman. The woman he had watched and ached for from afar for the better part of seven years now. The one woman in the world he could never, ever have.

Shit, he was beginning to sound like a fucking Lifetime movie. What kind of man restored and redecorated a house for a woman he had never actually met in person? For that matter, what kind of man kept a scrapbook with every news clipping and every photo printed of that woman for nine years? He was turning into some kind of stalker freak. This obsession was going to have to end soon, or he might do something colossally stupid. He simply had to find some way to work this woman out of his system.

Not for the first time in his life, Thierry cursed the fates that decreed he be born a Chevalier, one of the oldest most powerful families in Louisiana. His grandfather had been both Governor and a United States Senator. His father, Beaumont Chevalier, was now one of the Senators representing the great state of Louisiana, and had been one of the first old Southern Democrats to formally switch to the Republican Party during the 1960s. His family was one of the richest in America, settling in the state direct from France and bringing with them a good amount of wealth and power. However, with all the wealth and power came responsibility: to the family name, to the party, to society in general.