And All That Jazz

Zulime was happy that her hand was free. When she pulled her arm out, she did it in the most theatrical fashion she possibly could, as if she were pulling a sword from a stone. Patrice's thigh was quite warm, and she very much wanted to feel it again. Only the next time she did that, she wanted to be spreading this woman's legs. The dark twinkle in her eye gave away her lewd thoughts, and it was clear where her intentions were even in the dark jazz club. As she stood straight up, the stain of the wine became even more prominent.

She was looking deep into the eyes of the blonde woman now. Her name was Patrice. It was a fine name, she supposed. Patrice lacked the elegant panache of a name like Zulime, but it was altogether decent. Zulime had not been so infuriated so as to forget her manners. "Zulime. Zulime Lafitte." Usually she smiled and shook the other's hand when she met someone new, but she was already straining herself by not decking her right then and there.

The Riverboat Queen looked at the blonde woman with a flair of passion in her eye. She thought she was being so damn clever by speaking French. The whole night, she had been playing the crowd. That did not seem right to her. It was cheap, and easy. On the riverboat, you put on a show for the sake of putting on a show. The crowd was just an added bonus. "So if I understand you correctly, madame," she was speaking just loudly enough so that everyone in the dingy bar would hear, "that you are afraid of fightin' on a bed because when you are on a bed, your passions overwhelm you. Well, very lucky for both of us, that works out for me and you."

Zulime leaned forward. "{Maybe we can do that. Maybe we will do something else. You will find that I am awfully willfull.}" Their breasts were touching now. "{And you lack the power and elegance to go against one such as me. I assure you, I have no mercy for little French fops. And at the end, when you are begging me to fuck you, I may very well grant it.}"

Zulime leaned in, as if she were about to kiss her. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth gaped open. Right before their lips touched, Zulime withdrew with a harsh laugh. She collected her purse, threw some cash at the bar, and walked out the back door. The entire time, she was swaying her hips, left and right, left and right.

Patrice thought she had been clever. Very clever. She had laid down her terms, and surely they were irrefutable. Zulime would get the dirty match that she wanted, but to achieve that the Cajun girl would have to prove her skills in a more moderate way. Simply, it had been an offer Zulime couldn't refuse.

Too bad that Zulime wasn't dumb either. Quite clever in fact. She knew well how to play with the language too, and switched it just in time to make the French girl appear strange. Patrice could only hope that the patronage at the club were too dumbfounded by the recent turns of events to make any coherent sense out of her words.

Her threatening stance hadn't worked exactly as well as she had hoped for either. Instead of outright accepting her terms, the Cajun girl didn't really give her an answer. Maybe they were going to fight how Patrice had suggested, or then maybe not.

For some reason Patrice had the feeling they were going to fight in some way or another.

But how Zulime walked out of the situation managed to leave the blonde all confused. The girl first leaned towards her, obviously in an attempt to kiss, catching Patrice truly off guard. For a split second she actually attempted to decide whether she should kiss her lips or not, or did she even want to do that at all. But luckily, before she had to make that decision, Zulime suddenly retreated further away. In fact, away from the whole club.

Now what?

For a moment, the French was left there all confused with her mouth open. But then, it became obvious that Zulime had left, she had stayed. She could keep her dignity. Or at least try to.

"Crazy ass bitch."

It was time to continue with the night out. But at this point she'd better find another club for that.