Marguerite stood on her toes and craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Edouard.Marguerite stood on her toes and craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Edouard. He had just arrived from a long business trip, and she had been very lonely without him. The 7 years they had been together had dulled neither of their passion, and she could feel the familiar wetness between her legs as she thought of lying next to his strong, muscular body again. What exciting times they had had, nights that had seemed too short to contain their ardor, and sunshine-filled days. Although he was a well-respected white businessman and she a mere quadroon woman, condemned to spend the rest of her life at the fringes of real society, he had never treated her with anything but the utmost respect. They had met at a quadroon ball, an affair especially designed to provide young men with a mistress, and young mulatto women with a provider for as long as her beauty opened his wallet. She had been eighteen then, flushed with excitement and terror as she faced the men in the room. |