Then the pirate returned and drew a chair up close to hers. So close that their knees touched as she sat down with a glass of wine. Her mask had hidden high cheek bones and long eyelashes. Her lips were very full and a little smile lurked about them as she leaned forward.

“Take off your mask, honey,” she said softly. “I’ll bet the rest of your face is just as sweet as the sample I can see.”

“It’s tied at the back,” Barbara told her simply.

“Drink the rest of your wine, and I’ll untie it.”

Barbara drank the remainder of the wine and leaned her head forward.

The other’s fingers fumbled at the back of her head. “My name’s Frankie,” a husky voice said in her ear. The mask slipped loose and she felt Frankie’s full lips brush over her hair. “You’re adorable,” the husky voice said.

Barbara avoided looking at her. “The wine was very nice,” she said sedately.

“Let me get you some more.” Frankie arose quickly and refilled her glass. Barbara drank half of it before taking it from her lips. It was heavy and sweet. Slow fire seemed to creep through her veins as she lowered the glass.

She stole a glance at Ethel and was surprised to see that she and Johnny were sitting very close together on the couch. Their arms were thrown familiarly about each other’s shoulders, and they talked in low tones with snatches of covert laughter.

She blinked her eyes uncertainly as she watched them. Things were getting a bit hazy, and she wasn’t sure she was seeing everything as it was.

She drank the rest of the wine and smiled vaguely at Frankie. The erstwhile pirate was leaning forward eagerly, her black eyes shining with slumbrous passion.

“You... have an awfully nice place here,” Barbara essayed haltingly. She had never tasted wine before, and this second glass had made her voice sound thick.

“Do you like it?” Frankie asked eagerly. “Let me show you the rest of it.” Her eyes studied Barbara calculatingly as she arose to pour her a third glass of wine.

“I... I don’t think I should drink any more,” Barbara protested weakly. She stood up and swayed, holding tightly to the back of the chair. “I... I feel sort of funny now,” she confessed.

“Go ahead and drink it.” Frankie’s firm arm was comfortingly about her waist as she proffered the drink.

“Sure. Go ahead.” Ethel’s laughing voice came from the couch. “Suppose you do get a little tight? What’s the harm? Frankie and Johnny are perfect ladies.” She giggled and Johnny joined in with a deeper note of mirth.

“All right,” Barbara said recklessly. She drank the third glass of wine and dropped the empty goblet to the floor. “I... I want to drink of life... like that,” she said fiercely. “Drain its sweetness and fling the husk away!” Her voice rose shakily. It sounded like a very good speech.

“Atagirl,” Ethel applauded. “Don’t let ’em get you down, Babs.” She laughed uproariously at her own wit.

Frankie smiled at Barbara with genuine warmth. “Let me show you the rest of our apartment,” she urged. Her arm tightened tentatively about Barbara’s waist.

“All right. But don’t hold me so tight,” Barbara said querulously. “I’m all right. I can stan’ up.” She tugged at Frankie’s arm and pulled it from her waist.

Frankie smiled and caught her elbow as she staggered and almost fell. “Come on,” she said huskily, leading her from the room.

“This is the bedroom,” she said slowly. Barbara gazed wonderingly as the room seemed to swing about in circles. Her wavering gaze fell upon a huge bed and remained fixed there. She moved toward it uncertainly.

“Wanta lie down,” she muttered.

“Sure. Just relax and rest a little.” Frankie’s voice was low and persuasive. She helped Barbara reach the bed. “Just lie down,” she said tenderly. “You can stay here as long as you want to.”

Barbara relaxed gratefully on the bed. The wine seemed to have left her body in a state of suspended animation. Her limbs seemed disjointed... not a part of her at all. She closed her eyes as Frankie leaned over her.

“You sweet kid. You’re so darned cute in that costume I don’t see how I can keep my hands off you.” Frankie’s voice was hoarse. She leaned down to let her lips caress the base of Barbara’s neck.

Barbara moved restlessly and pushed Frankie’s face away. She wondered, feebly, what sort of game this was. She was vaguely irritated by Frankie’s sentimentality.

“Go ’way,” she muttered. “I don’t know you very well.”

“Don’t push me away, honey. You’ll break my heart,” Frankie breathed passionately.

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.